:: Out of Spite, Out of Mind ::

Autopsy of the psyche, pouring salt on old wounds and adding insult to injury

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:: Wednesday, February 26, 2003 ::

She lives in my head

In my imagination, I hear the furious clacking of keys unable to keep pace with the flurry of words jettisoning from the muse in my head... the grinding of mental gears, the torrent of perspiration as I type an inspired post onto this blog.

But it's just in my imagination.

Meanwhile, in Reality- our hero sits crossed-legged on his Foo-tawn (Futon) in his room... wishing he could write something cool.

Need to wine and dine the muse...perhaps even propose to her... say something like "I'm through playin' around- you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with", but only more poetic and eloquent... make sure to use the word "soulmate" and "destiny"... promise her a better life. Every phrase, note, word is for her. I am a filter for her beauty- which is too unearthly to be experienced through our feeble earthly senses...so I must translate it, break it down for human consumption. Ahhh the Muse...

Don't mind me, I've been around chemicals all day.

:: Ol Man Factory 2/26/2003 06:48:00 PM [+] ::
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:: Sunday, February 23, 2003 ::

Note to self:

Should've Could'ves

The goal is to cross as many of those off the list as possible before it's too late.

:: Ol Man Factory 2/23/2003 11:13:00 AM [+] ::
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