and if i were to stop writing about writing it's like, there goes my muse! a funny kind of muse to have indeed; a lecherous old painter might find a beautiful young flower to be his muse but me, i'll just take my bad writing of yore and make that fodder for more. yes, this is something to be ashamed about, but you know how you feel more secure when you call out your faults before anyone else can call them out on you? that's what I'm doing.

it's not even that there's been an absence of translucent yellow-red leaves in light inspiring, it's that there's something wrong with the conversion, like the information goes in, chemicals move, awe-like appreciation emotion is expressed, but then it's there the function breaks down. the function, like y(x)=a beautiful vignette, is broke! It was not supposed to be like this.

All times adverse, that is, all times of adversity, should never be able to surmount the power of the word!

And yet.