i am making myself type this piece in notepad,
mainly because I can give myself little rules to follow
like: try and type out your lines clear to the border
of the window, instead of hitting enter every time you
have a pause in your thoughts.

sometimes i can even convince myself
to obey them, for a little while.

i am convex; everyone
expects me to bend
under duress.

i can't write this week, so i
have been drawing things. curtains, flowers
stars, paisley, faces i

forgot that i knew how
to draw and let it
slide so much away from me
the past couple of years.

like picking up a soft-boiled egg
off a marble countertop with
your elbow.

i talked to jonathan
this morning, he always
gets me to write, gets me to think
like an artist again makes
me pay attention to my
words.

i still can't write yet, but
i at least thought
a few good things.

I used to think I was pretty good with
music, and lately I'm
like, I dunno if I have any
sort of taste.

I like what emotionally appeals
to me in certain states...

doesn't make it good.

meh.

I hate the word meh,
and that's how I'm feeling at the moment.

at the same time, it's trivial.
like I don't really
feel meh. It's

just a surface thing.
surface emotions, nothing

penetrates anymore.

I got rid of all the fluff
and it's just this weak, mournful
sort of dragging...something.

i need to go draw. at least
when i'm drawing i can tell
myself that it's good, that people
can tell what i'm drawing. that

i can tell
what i'm

drawing.