translates to verbal diahorrea. (The shift from a daily news channel
to a monthly magazine was once refreshing but am completely spoiled
now and all the other stresses in my life plus working on Saturdays
doesn't help.)
Anyway,one thing is to write on the blog but another thing is to write
in my journal to scrape out all those little thoughts and ideas from
deep within and find vent. When one doesn't do it, thoughts reproduce
and blend and merge when ultimately all you have is a tangled mess
that you quickly wrap and put in the closet so you can have guests
over, have a daily life, come to work,sip cocktails sociably etc. Yet,
there are so many questions, so many unforumulated plans for living
that are stifled in the process just because they haven't had the
chance to be privately and shamelessly vomitted on anonymous paper.
I miss paper and being alone .
What would really help though
is having a home.
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