defending his light and wondering: where the hell have i been?

3:43 p.m. x 2005-02-22

i'm in blithering lust with the cement garden, it has reinvigorated my adoration of the fiction-writing medium. i'm trying to revise this one thing, and i'm printing it out, and while this is a revision-copy and doesn't need to look great...i can barely read what my printer has done to it...

the dr. phil i want to see is on TOMORROW. i thought it was on today, but that's all right, as long as i didn't miss it...and then it spills over into thursday.

otherwise: i'm having a sinking feeling about everything that is not fiction writing, my script marathon, etc. things beyond my thematic control...which is probably just a function. yeah. this is a topic set to "automatic worry" and nothing's going to get muddied up over it if people know what's good for them. uuugh, what's the defensiveness for? i keep hearing the phrase "ulterior motive" abound off the walls. granted i just watched "to serve man", but it resonates with a great amount of reason.

i know i'm making a tense face over nothing. i'm going to have to just let it worry itself out. then, when it happens, i can appear cool and collected while releasing a wretching scream on my way home.

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)

anybody can be just like me, obviously.
not too many can be like you, fortunately.
KL 02-11