I’m walking to my mailbox listening to Mary Jane’s Last Dance. I really want to write more, so I’m kind of just forcing myself to write even though I don’t have anything on my mind.
I was thinking about going and meeting random strangers and then writing about them, but I don’t know about that idea so much anymore (since I thought it three minutes ago).
A better idea, and one I will surely follow through with, is reading more. I’m going to read an entire book by the end of this weekend.
So things are well, but vain. I’ve done nothing of any value whatsoever in days. Onward I go.
I want to produce more. I want to start a business. I want to live.