Very busy, but I need to write. I don't know why I need to write, but I've always needed to write, on scraps of paper, on napkins in Burger King, on the margins of my notes, on the margins of your notes, and now here on this blog.
This is becoming something of a dumping ground for me: I write there when I'm the most angry, most upset, most depressed, most tickled, most secretive, most insensible. Then they are just sentence missiles: shoot, shoot, miss, hit -- meaning nothing at the end of the day.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Nothing at the end of the day
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2 comments:
my dear... it's what one would call an overflow vent... excess emotions dribble over and collect there... preventing that sleepy volcano snuggled in the coils of your gut from ever erupting and wiping out all those innocent bystanders wandering by...
think i may need one too... presently, my destressing mechanics involve loud enough rants so my nearby colleagues know about it... and food... both of which are highly self destructive...
Food, yes, I know that one :) Though I seem to lose my appetite when stressed. Today a bus with a Carl's Jr ad went by and it made my heart a-flutter. I think I won't stay late today.
Don't be too stress k?
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