I haven't commented, yet, upon the place that I've found myself as of late. Not my station in life - but the actual place that I'm living.
one brain-fried slump
with a side of bleh
I haven't written anything for nearly three weeks. That's almost a fucking month. Jesus fucking fuck.
Nothing of note, that's for sure. The only substantial thing I've written in three whole weeks was a few paragraphs as a comment on someone's Medium article about podcasting. That was earlier today, though, so does it even count?
I might be cursed, but that's entirely unrelated.
I thought I might mention that for anyone who is concerned - a lot of my previous posts are partially based in fiction. Example: I have never actually been to Africa. That string of posts were to distract me from my own reality. There are a few other things I've written here that are stretched to fit a storytelling perspective.
In reality, my life seems more dull to me than it might appear to an outside observer, so in order to create an emotional connectivity, I change things around. It's the feeling expressed that is true, not necessarily the details.
Nothing of note, that's for sure. The only substantial thing I've written in three whole weeks was a few paragraphs as a comment on someone's Medium article about podcasting. That was earlier today, though, so does it even count?
I might be cursed, but that's entirely unrelated.
I thought I might mention that for anyone who is concerned - a lot of my previous posts are partially based in fiction. Example: I have never actually been to Africa. That string of posts were to distract me from my own reality. There are a few other things I've written here that are stretched to fit a storytelling perspective.
In reality, my life seems more dull to me than it might appear to an outside observer, so in order to create an emotional connectivity, I change things around. It's the feeling expressed that is true, not necessarily the details.
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