Originally Posted Tuesday, April 9, 2013
I wrote some desperation gibberish last night. Deleted it this morning. Sometimes at night. . . I'm not all there. I just can't seem to get on track. I am unhappy with my "creative" output. It is frustrating to display it daily. Better to go into the cave until a creative moment arrives. But here I am mocking myself in public.
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What remains of last night's post:
The night is silent, the sky deep and dark, the stars twinkling in their heaven. It is almost eleven o'clock, when I decide to walk out of the kitchen onto the deck. There is nothing like pissing outside under the night sky, and so I do. Of a sudden, I hear wheels on the road. A fellow comes by on rollerblades as I am finishing up. Where is he going? What is he doing? Exercise?
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