I had over 500 great fucking words written then this piece of shit closed out and I lost it all. Oh well, in any case a recap is in order.
Jungle Journalism now has real direction and form. FUCK Timmy from chapter one, I hope he never gets the girl. Wanna read long novels about bullshit characters? go read Dickens or someone, i’m not writing that here. FUCK! I had some really good words formed into what appeared to be somewhat complete sentences that really made sense. The narcotics and alcohol have really grabbed my by the balls now, but instead of throwing the computer across the room at the opposing wall i’m compelled to get something down. I swear i’m going to lose my shit because autocorrect wont fix i’m to I’m.
Have a title for my book. Note to self: construct a chapter like a chapter from the Bible, write a chapter about illegal drugs and how they shaped my life and go pee……asshsdpkfhasd;kjfhasd
I’m back, anyway…. I was standing there cock in hand and said to my self “ya know what? I don’t care, i’ll recreate those 600ish words as best I can”. A daunting task, it all seemed so fluent and flowing. Now it’s overshadowed by anger and thoughts of school. I’m starting school next semester, finishing my bachelors degree, i’m going to study Psychology. I told myself when I went back to school it would be to study something I would enjoy learning about, i’m interested in the mind, the human mind. I’m not interested in the drugs that change it, the shrinks that influence it or help it along, I wont to know how, why etc… So, that’s what I will study, I can get a job, the paper will help, if i’m going to get higher education I want to enjoy it. This approach will make me much more happier and successful I think. Better to have loved and lost sort of thing than to blindly go into school with the schema of a child out of high school with no real original thought of my own to guide me.
I’m rambling now, not at all what those original 600ish poetic words were like so i’ll stop, and my son is poking me.