I fashioned a heart from the blunt end of my knife. i fashioned a cord from the lost fkdsglksvn blah
I am tired and cold and overcome with not being overcome at all. it is fashionable and deadly and I am off to work for moments and seconds and a day of gray time and photocopying.
Am I wasting my time on this earth doing the wrong thing.? I wonder this. am I not writing right or am I supposed to be doing something else or this but better?
2 comments:
The whole nagging questioning thing about whether this is what you're supposed to be doing---I feel that. Really. But I think it's what you're supposed to be doing and what I'm supposed to be doing. After all, you're in the frickin Lard of all places. That definitely puts the stamp of legitimacy on any bastard playwright. So to speak. As it were.
My verification word is bbvbrjup. Can we discuss that?
I have that legitimacy, right now anyway, and that's great but that doesn't mean it's what i'm supposed to be doing. Or even that I'm necessarily good. I can name many bad playwrights with legitimacy. i want to be good. But I also want to be doing something worthwhile, you know. i'm not always so sure i am.
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