Feeling like a draft horse with too much spare time.

"I should not talk so much about myself if there were any body else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience."
-Thoreau, Walden

I want to sit here
And Want to Want to write about packaging
And how I was disturbed at North Country Creamery
After applying only 300, 8 inch long labels to 300 plain yogurts
200 feet of waxed backing paper remained
That no longer serve any purpose what so ever.

But I am occupying the strangest brainspace.

I am feeling metaphysical
In the most physical way
Coupled with this unending feeling of nausea
It's driving me crazy.

The other day I watched the Nova documentary
"Mind of a Rampage Killer"
And it's effectively WebM.D.'ed me.
I am now convinced I have at least two impulse control disorders
And that my parents didn't hold me enough as a child.


I have reverted to my favorite writing style
This strange brand of free verse poetry.
Replacing commas
With returns



I fucking love long pauses.



I have completely altered my journal
Cutting shit out
And burning shit in.
Contemplating my brain
And my life

My mind is like Space Mountain
Its pitch black
And I never know where the next turn will take me.

I wish you could see me laughing on this side of the blog post
Never take me too seriously.


Also
I hate roller coasters
But Space Mountain is pretty ok.



This is nothing like a blog post
Maybe I'll alter it before tomorrow morning





Don't count on it.