I just can't write it.
Why?
Because every other fucking thought jumps into my head!
I wonder how Dave's doing?
Why isn't he calling?
What the fuck is wrong w/ me?
Ou, chocolate!
Kitties!
Cows!
Degas is a perv...
I mean, just random things. Not all of them good, but ya know... whatever works for this stupid head of mine.
It's almost 9pm and i have 2 more pages to birth out and damn to hell for being in labor for so long.
Damn, i smell like oil paint.
So now i wanna take a shower but No i musn't!
Musn't... is that a word?
I want to be doing everything But this paper at the moment.
This has got to be the hardest paper i've written since my women's studies paper last year.
I can't even remember when i took the class... was is it... fall 03? Or spring 03? I was swimming, it would have been spring.
Anyways, i'm writing now, why can't it be so easy to get the rest of what ever is in my head out on paper?
I ask god, why? Why spite me now?
In the words of Bruce, "Spite me oh Mighty Spiter!!!!"
Jim Carey, gotta love him.
chez