I woke up at 5.A.M again. Circadian rythms are getting to seem like indifferent jerks. I set my mind to getting the best possible breakfast with the most original ingrediants written up and send to some arena where it then might have the potential to be seen by more eyes than mine.
I became wildly creative, I must say. By 6.35 a.m I'd created a comical chef and possibly a new literary genre. I'm assuming that it is due 10.A.M eastern time and so I smile smugly to myself and give it a once over. In the midst of this shitty smile, I see a pop up, and it tells me to sign in to open salon.
I had already done so, and when I click on the go back arrow it won't go anywhere and I'm convinced that the thing that had emerged from this Monday's breakfast and fruit salad focused imagination was going to be the thing that began the end of my not having any momentum(see previous post, please.) And, of course, the thing was completely gone. Believe me, I tried very hard( too hard?) to find it.
I wanted someone to shoot me with the drug that would stop the sense that I am cursed or just overchallenged- and not up to the task. But, I can't afford addictions, and no one I know is on call to shoot me up with such a salve ,so I took the 6 minutes that were remaining to just write anything and send it in by the deadline.
I feel kind of proud of myself because the way more overpowering impulses of defeatism and futilitism looked primed to easily overpower all opposing sentiments.
I think I did some special thing by persisting when faced with some serious ass feelings of, " Oh greaaaaaat, another last straw!"
So, however feeble that output my appear-- there is a heavy history underlying that semi-retarded fruit loop entry.
That might seem like a disclaimer or some lame caveat now that I'm insecure that my entry is perusable, and more than possibly--will be cruelly ignored.
That's partly true. Thank you.