walking out of the grave

resurrection better phrased but trite all the same...you know you're really in a writer's bind when all that flows through gets the trite stamp and flung aside into the pile of rejects along with the self-appointed title of writer itself...besides the fact that nary a creative word has poured forth from this mind since last I wrote, the complete failure to recall the existence of this blog as a worthy thing to attend to is a testament to the fact that writing has fallen to a low rung on my ladder of priorities and man while my mind was attempting some tumbles to figure a better word than the common old ladder to make that analogy, there was no chance it was getting anywhere past a mere hop on the trampoline for that one...so much for creativity I say but let's stop with the self-deprecation...

I've failed miserably in my goal to stop talking about this blog, so I'll abandon the goal and embrace my apparent need to use it as the subject of all these rantings...today's bend on the topic is my consideration, and it's a big step I say to consider, to tell people about the blog...well, why not have a forum? When there's a person or two who will bother to check in and throw a couple cents this way, there's no reason not to...and then perhaps there will be more interesting subjects besides my inability to write and my surprise about this blog despite its month's age...

I'll leave on that note, but I will not forget this consideration; I will consider who to invite as well, why not?

looking down

the grass grew between the toes and i stood there like ages hoping to tip over in petrification and thud to the floor so that the shockgreen blades would bend and there'd be some change of scenery...of course in a courtyard full of hardened bodies one toppled piece would leif be noticed but for me in particular relative to the happenings of my life, it would be a great thing indeed...

change of perspective and a glance up at the towering structures of the others, that's a thing to be seen in one's life--they imposing, the life from below on level with the grovellers crawling upon the earth, claustrophobic in the fear of being trampled or, understandably so, the anxiety that another will tumble to the ground out of boredom and land just on the small of your back and separate hips from torso in one clean crack

dishonesty some

so even a blog is not enough to impel me to write on a regular basis...the mind is burnt and I continue to hold the flame to it, perhaps approach it closer even, and so if mediocrity is all that will pour from this mind, better not post it to the web and sign off like some proud aspiring writer...

But I already said I wouldn't talk of this anymore, so I should really move off the topic to better things like my obsession, or not obsession, but my unbridled urge to consume consume...it's all indulgence and very unnecessary, but what is to be done? A very fundamental change must happen, entailing the development of some kind of physical aversion to the acquisition of more shit--slowly happening, but more in the form of post-consumption guilt, or a diffused general feeling that you shouldn't be consuming so much all the while consuming without abandon...