I write in a journal out in the dangerous wilderness of The Real World. I keep meaning to post some of the stuff I write in that thing here, because my writing style is very different compared to the stuff you see here. I write weird little poems and songs and fucked up short stories. Maybe someday I’ll post it here, although I doubt if I actually will. The stuff in that journal seems far more personal to me. Maybe it’s the content but I think it’s actually the method; typing stuff onto an internet site for the world to see is far less personal, and perhaps personable, than writing with parchment and ink, so to speak - baring your soul for only yourself to see is far more intimate than tip-tapping on a keyboard for the scumbags of the world to see.
I hope I’m making sense. I’m not stoned today, although I got pretty high last night. Beer is cheap in this town, so I made up just under a tenner and bought eight bottles of Carlsberg Export and hung out with a guy who had some pretty good weed. I didn’t really get a lot accomplished yesterday, but fuck it. I’m waiting for the weather to be definitively good before I set out and build my house in the woods. It’s mid-spring, so the weather has been a bit pick ‘n’ mix lately.
Anyway, I got nothing more interesting to say, so have a good ‘un, people.
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