swoop

I've been printing my brain directly to paper, lately. Grey-matter hard-copy. It's a practice I long ago attempted to convert to habit, but that didn't quite achieve it. I believe the end result of that experiment was an ugly hybrid of irregularly spaced good intentions, punctuated by shameful laziness. Since then, I've realized that I can't keep a regular schedule. Now that I've cast off that shackle, I can appreciate the writings for the clarity they bring. I can reread myself until I know what the hell I'm talking about. What I want.

What I want is a sense of control. Self-control. Emotional, financial, mental, physical control. Time to pit the mind against the matter, and see which bends first.