Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Wednesday December 9, 2009

Tonight I don’t feel like writing. Don’t fee like doing much of anything. Less of a creator than usual. A duck with one wing, if that makes any sense. Two more days in this final week of instruction. The Claret I was sipping last night, still in the thoughts. Then, I imagine myself owning my own business in the industry, again. Why don’t I just go for it, you know? Now I’m rolling, writing. Let the pages come. I was reading some blogs today while in between classes at Solano, in the library. The library at SCC is like a zoo. Quiet, where? Anyway, I saw “writer” after “writer” contributing to their nonsensical blogs with a caliber of authorship hardly worth the time an illiterate. Many of them continued tirelessly about entertainment, celebrities, alcohol. Substance, where?
Not saying I’m the best of scribes on this Earth, but I am mentally alive enough to journal on topics beyond the bland and brainless ballet of Hollywood. What is wrong with us? Why are people so obsessed with these puppets? So many see movie stars as heroes, sages, activists. Why can’t the agenda of these clones be more visible to some? Don’t mind me, I’m grumpy, and logging the irritability. Really mature.
Topic next. Should make an instrumental or two tonight, write some spoken word. Want to entertain with my writing, as well as educate. I’m a wasp towards the critics, anyone analyzing my work with the premeditation of attack. You ever notice that so many human beings would rather utter the negative than encouragement. Why can’t they simply ask you to explain in the event of a misunderstanding? They always want to criticize, hurl barbs. Not wasting anymore time on them.
Want to take a trip across the country. Don’t care if it’s for writing, leisure, or the sake of spontaneity. I just need to see more, so much more. Tired of my box, cage, fucking cell, choking chamber.

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