worstthing




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Untitled

now that i’m no longer suffering from unbearable unhappiness and no longer drowning in the sour depths of alcoholism, i really don’t write. isn’t that stupid? if i don’t have anything to lament or pine for, i don’t have any meaningful words? bullshit. admittedly, i was going through the things i wrote about two years ago, and some of it is pretty profound and amazing and i was pretty impressed with myself. but i wasn’t impressed with what i’d let myself become. now that my life is so bright and warm and wonderful, shouldn’t i be able to write with equal profundity? if i feel as strongly about my happiness as i did about my sadness, shouldn’t i be able to express it just as passionately? so damn! write something! stop bitching about being a creative wasteland and do something about it. i understand that this can’t be forced, but at least give it the opportunity to happen. stop recycling my old tired sad ideas that no longer reflect who i am. write.



wake up earlier (read all 2 entries…)
Untitled

yesterday i got up early enough to go to tim hortons before work. awesome.



create installation art (read all 2 entries…)
Untitled

i was talking to someone on the phone last night about this. now that i’ve actually said it out loud, i guess it’s set it stone. i’ve a few ideas that are worth pursuing. and now it looks like there’s the chance that i might be able to sublet studio space this summer. hot damn.



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