I’ve been giving this much thought and I need a break. My writings have disintegrated into ramblings. I’m going to take a little time off from writing. If I write something then I’ll post it, but I won’t force myself. I will post Wednesday when I vacation with Doolies in Paris. Here is what I jotted down throughout the day:

Green aliens over bread slavered with butter. Where is my knife? Oh. The knife…I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore. Where is the platter of celery? Ties for hamburgers of the eights in the street.

Telly Tubbies tried to take to the tricycle. Pink wires winded together on the monitors base. I have to find my feelings again. I’ve lost them and it’s affected my writing. I don’t know what I’m sharing anymore. It’s angst. WHAT?

There must be something here. What is there here? His hair stood up in the back of his head. The buzz has hit me and I’m sitting here looking to people watch, but none of these people interest me. WHY?

There is nothing rise in favor of brown green yellow and the red purple looking forward Chinese green tie and chairs of the raised through the night of trying to see the last of many pioneers; and who am I to know where is the rest of the great of last and not trying to see.

There’s nothing I want to say and no way of saying any of it. That’s my problem; that’s always my problem. I don’t understand why I complain and bitch, and don’t share.

Today is the last.

I want to write something but it’s like picking corn out of my brain. Words and just words.