I have felt like a bi-polar schizophrenic all day long. I have been in a state of binary oppositions since I woke up: sleep vs. wake up, eat vs. don’t eat, work vs. watch TV, go see a movie vs. veg at home, write vs. read. It’s one of those days where I hate my life and feel totally unfulfilled about everything.
I finally left the house to hang out with Sara for a bit. Still felt like crap despite the efforts made to keep me involved. I did, however, buy a new journal. My old one is not even half filled, but it has been about two years since I wrote an entry and I need to start anew. It may sound weird, and Sara agreed, that sometimes a journal has so much negative energy and thoughts that you can’t go back to it and you have to start fresh, and I truly believe that. I find it hard enough to read the old journals let alone keep writing in them. So I got a plain black ringed journal with white pages…no line…no confinement….no rules. Just me and my thoughts. This could either be extremely cathartic for me, or extremely painful….which I guess would fulfill the first.
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Frighteningly accurate Piscean traversing the rhetorical hills and mountains of NYC and beyond while negotiating life in the 30s. Jack-of-all-trades with divergent tastes and proclivities tending too many creative irons in the fire and, thusly, prone to fits of malaise, neuroses, and some light paranoia. A writer, an actor, a baker, a candlestick maker. Ersatz Caucasian with pop cultural obsessive tendencies. Quietly opining with no stick leaving safe no topic - least of all, himself.




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