by igor fucking brown or whatever the fuck his name may be.
................................
writing this weekend, starting last thursday, i've gotten some good shit. all i've done for three or four days or something is read and write. and nothing for school. kind of neat, feeling like i'm in fifth grade, except it's all sprung from my new moping reflex. katherine and i are very inclined to shooting the shit, up in here, up in here. facing our lime green curtains.

yes. i feel so fucking joyful.

um i woke up ten hours ago. i feel exactly the same now as i did when i woke up.

i have absolutely no motivation.

jeeeesus.

i'm so foggy.

want to work some more on doing the things i know i should, since i know i can, from little to big. since we're all just pawns anyway. i mean, that's a bit of what i believe. i'm not important enough to not do what i ought to.

THERE'S MY GUIDING LIGHT!!!! i ought to work in television. hey, cool, i'll start there. (just kidding!)