Surely, the world is still capable of creating original ideas. Or perhaps now. not. There is nothing new beneath the sun, just the same turkey with gradually different dressing. I don’t feel so bad about being uncreative, unimaginative.
This song has already played. I’ve stayed for an entire loop of the music here. Likely for two cycles. I’m leaving now.
Just kidding. I’m too comfortable.
Good God, I’m bored. Must. Find. Something. To. Do.
When a person says “I’m bored,” you know they’re doing something wrong in life.
Too much anxiety. This is why I’m writing nothing. There’s just too much anxiety. It needs to be got out somehow. No matter how therapeutic writing may be, however, it’s not nearly enough. So much anxiety, stress, frustration. Just looking up quotes both inspiration and depressing to put on the blog. Nothin’. Inspiring me to be depressed. I had one of the most vivid and insightful dreams the other night.
Might be interesting to chart the days when I go on manic writing sprees.
It’s a Saturday. There’s no need to put any effort into anything. Legitimate post coming this Monday, I promise. Happy Easter, folks. And if you don’t do anything for Easter, high five, let’s watch Breaking Bad on Netflix together.
