Summer living is SO HARD.
Ughh!
I've been writing so much. At least three novels last week. I'll sort them and it might be more. I only write paragraphs at a time. That's the easiest way to write books by the way: tie together unrelated paragraphs.
I'm telling you, that's art.
In the reality, I haven't done anything at all. I've wasted my time.
"Should I buy a new journal?" I ask myself every day.
Yeah, Weeeeeeellllllllllll, I guess I coullllllllld, but I just situated in this chaaaaaaaaaaiiiiirrrrr, so I probably shouldn't.
Every day.
Summer living will be the death of me.
I have spent most of the last week not sitting, though. I've been out in the West Hills deforesting. It's a pretty good living. Definitely one of the most masculine things I've done in a long time, possibly ever. There was a day I spent on a saw mill, but I wasn't wearing plaid, I was wearing stripes by Kohls. Department stores are not masculine.
If you want clothes and you are male, you must kill an animal and wear it. Horse, river fowl, whatever.
I'm working on a second blog. I know I haven't perfected this one, but the second one will be better. There will be more information soon. It'll be something critical and regular with multiple contributors. It'll be Really negative, too. That's all I'm sure about.
Mostly these days, I'm trying to become the person that I see in the mirror.
(I taped a picture of Liam Neeson on my mirror.)
My old technique of bettering myself as a person was rejecting all criticism.
For instance, my sister Aurora said that I was being clingy once. Haven't spoken to her in a while.
But now, I regularly figure out who I am, what I stand for and what I see myself being and destroy it all.
This has been a summer of going to the basics. Of ego death and fervent spiritual dreams.
It's been a summer of growth.
Obviously, I want it to end.
