Hi.
Coffee: Bolivian Medium-Dark, Trader Joe’s Brand
I should cut my hair. I should vacuum. I should wash these three glasses sitting on my table. I should work out more. There are a half-dozen people I should talk to who I haven’t talked to in a while. I should make more plans for the future.
It’s mid-December. It’s 2018. I’ll only have one of these Wednesdays. I should make the most of it.
But instead I get stuck in traffic. A road rage of bumper-bumper in the blackening twilight. We’re all going home and getting there late. We’ll skip sit-ups and eat a little less healthy. We won’t pet the dog.
Every good thing you work for gets cast off like cicada skin as soon as there’s a bit of stress. American wealth wants to buy itself out of happiness with coupons for marginal comfort. I’ve got nothing to complain about but sometimes I only feel like complaining.
Somebody slap some sense into me.
Novel Count: 6,348
Currently Reading: Nothing! Done with Cherry, still deciding on the next book.
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I was most happy when pen and paper were taken from me and I was forbidden from doing anything. I had no anxiety about doing nothing by my own fault, my conscience was clear, and I was happy. This was when I was in prison.
Daniil Kharms, Today I Wrote Nothing
Livesay Writing 