just randomly the Ate of writing came to me in a flash for such a day that I just am working on everything left undone on this chilly but beautiful sunday when people are off.shit i'm on, sucker.
to me it feels like every month but Novemeber, this particular month was something special and magically ran away real quick you know. like a speed of light. bitch, life is sartorial.
surprisingly all the sudden with just tiny two paragraphes I typed above, that strong Ate of writing appeared a minute before just left and now i am facing nothing that i want to speak about and for. But I fuckin logged into this and now all the blank space is calling me to get into and type onto. ha, this type of joke reminded me of the experince i had with some poetry reading. like Robert Frost. When I read his works, especially for some greater pieces, oh i forgot the title...Nothing Gold Can Stay, no, not that one...ah, The Road No Taken! Found it. Good.So When I read the piece, it always curse me to start my writing or to start just about anything creative and critical, and then when i start that (or try starting that), the poem, technically speaking, the imagery of the poem (or the message? i dont give a fuck) stick in my head and it takes all my grediences of creativeness away from me and i feel like nothing. empty time flies so quick and then realizes it's been a half hour already since the first letter I punched onto this usefull/less keyboard.
but wait a goddamn second i wrote kinda long. like this long. didn't you think this is like a life? like yours and mine and ours?. just another life living. you know it always goes like this random as we all know. crazy, but true, right. so we got no worries to keep alive and keep going forward or sometimes backwards, ha let's just then get tangled up in blue everyone. this was a message for you. thank you. good byes, farewell every single ones.