I told a friend that I would try to write an entry after two drinks. I then realized two-drink Steve probably wouldn't write anything...he'd just stare longingly at a wall and make everyone uncomfortable.
However, I feel two or three days without sleep yields similar head-space. So maybe after I write and edit down some thoughts I will post them. Maybe.
I've also been trying to write a few short stories. It is taking a while. None of them have a point. Does that mean something? Exercises in worthlessness.
Anywho, just a heads-up on that.
This whole island smells like fast food. Sometimes I want to move to Vermont. I could be that interesting recluse who may or may not have been famous. They'd publish my journal someday after I died. Lit majors would swap interesting facts about me: "I read that he never ate solids, he only drank tea." "I heard he would train his cats to act out his plays. I love him." That'd be something.
Personal question of the week: Why do I create dialogue for moments I know will never happen?
Favorite pick up line of the week: Do you like ant-farms?