sitting down to write today, first time in forever.

feel like a man who talked a bunch of shit and is suddenly called on it. nothing I type makes sense or feels right.

can't remember the last time I forced myself to regurgitate my thoughts for anything other than a journal. it's discouraging.

what kinds of things are people writing in their #morningpages? I feel like 99% of the time I'm just like endlessly exorcising neurotic thoughts ... but maybe that's the point

#theartistsway

He can't help but feel an ache in his heart for the periodic inanimate object, a brick in this case, shadowed and moss-laden, facing due north. The movements of celestial bodies forcing an umbral mantle on this side of the wall, forever cloaked, and the subject being none the wiser.

life is a skinner box, not a destination

live laugh love fuck marry kill

Amon Mondrigal, Chesa Bellows, and Philip "Son" Carter walk into a bar hosting conspiracy theory trivia; here, the thinking goes, is where They'll be found, beneath the noses of Alcoholic Beverage Control groupies and ne'er-dos.

Fellow looked on in disgust; thoughts turned grotesque, to wiping 'ruck's gums, remove whatever studio trick might have been deployed by Pontius to keep him yapping. Erase the impetus for him to speak, he thought; yes, that'll do the trick.

"I simply can't stomach the thought" Baldruck said. His mouth in motion, he scarfed down a bowl of oat cereal, teeth gnashing like a horse

Crumbs were strewn across the vellus that littered the space between his maw and nose.

I often wonder what responsibility influencers have for the mental health of their followers

oftentimes the "advice" they proffer is less explicit recommendations and more vibes (read: lifestyle) and so it's difficult to pinpoint a specific turn of phrase that's leading minds to depress

I listen to one fucking Daniel Rossen song and suddenly my Spotify Discover Weekly is just high reverb instrument-forward chamber pop that makes me feel sad

... but I mean I don't hate it

the True Artist might declare some thing, viz. "look here at these words, structure and stricture, only the slightest upswing of a pen's tip making distinct a district idea; and yet, they are the same, could be slot into some identity function."

but what use are maths to a man who thinks in thought

early enough to get a single word handle, too late for it to be a single syllable