kloiterra

it drives me crazy to not write--
got a lot to say, a few stories to tell
but i'm not sure how they end yet,
how to say it, how to tell it
so i'm waiting for the right time
but if you know how i am,
you know i'll talk too much and dance around dangerous points
giving the illusion of landing
yet making...
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in the mood for some rambling overanalyzation of something that isn't that important? there is no real point, was just clearing some of the clutter from my head and realized i'd been thinking about this quite a bit lately.

"nice" and "kind"--interchangeable terms? i think not always.
it's comparable to how most people say "spicy" to describe hot food.
a blaring example: pumpkin pie is...
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an interesting and exciting intro to the new season of the life show, indeed:
the debut episode of the new season included both an exciting new character and a further development of a recurring minor character.
either could become co-stars; my writers predict we'll be seeing much more of both. the predicament is that both have romantic potential, pros, cons and complications while the protagonist...
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for once, no details:
had an incredible weekend,
the ebbing wave of loneliness
reveals the fire that burns in the belly,
the beam of attraction twice finds a mirror
glowing orange intrigue,
lamps lighting the street with no wrong turns.


that's how it feels.

it occurred to me today as i was walking on the campus that i'm not sure if any of this really means anything to me at all. everyone i see is as phony as my job, all just funneling through life like cattle going to slaughter...sheeple.
am i the only cow that's aware of what's happening here? do i even know what's really happening here,...
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"so what do you do?"
it's my favorite introduction-phase question to ask.
"well, i work at the bank..."
"no, i mean what do you really do?"
i'm not really interested in where you work, i'm looking for a major piece of what defines you as a person. i'm talking about art, and i believe everyone has at least one, but many don't realize what it...
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life is like being locked in a room with nothing but a toilet, a bed and a TV.
there is only one channel on the TV, there is only one show and it's a never-ending improvisational ad-lib with a lot of bullshit, horseshit and chickenshit in between the good parts.
being that yr the producer, i suggest trying to hire only the finest actors--some of...
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the crazy, freaky nurse--
i hadn't seen her in a year and had hardly kept in contact since last time. last september we were supposed to go camping in Moab for a week, just the two of us out in the desert all sweaty and half-naked. for weeks prior to the trip she'd call and make me promise that i was really going and wasn't...
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i hate seeing my family, heroes and the few celebrities that i esteem get old.
last night i watched George Carlin's "It's Bad For Ya," the last of his HBO specials that was filmed shortly before he died this year.
even though i had a hard time getting past the fact that he looked old and angry to me, kind of the way Clint Eastwood...
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at 3am the thought occurred to me:
"hm...i got all dressed up like i was going out."