I thought I'd share some pages from my journal today. They don't make a lot of sense, but I think journals that do make a lot of sense are like the end products of paint-by-numbers sets; very pleasing on a shelf, but lacking in scope/passion/ART. I try to write at strange hours, when my mind can forget to care about conventions and judgements and the like. So yeah. Normally I would end this paragraph with some kind of apology but I'm trying not to do that so much.
P.S. I'm going to start ending my posts with a song or two that I'm currently f~e~e~l~i~n~g.
So, current mood:
