Who knew all it would take for me to start writing again would be 19 hours of inebriated transitory confinement. The responsibilities of leading a semi-healthy life on this planet. mm nope, ain’t healthy. The responsibilities of leading a semi-practical life on this planet can really start to devour the part of oneself that is pushing you to live in the first place. And it’s so sneaky too, you may not even notice you just got maneuvered onto the conveyor belt of the uninspired. Until maybe you find your drawings and your bills have switched locations in your room. The latter being left in plain sight, reminding you of your obligations. shit’s wack. Let’s just vow to do everything that feels good.
I’ve been awake for 3 1/2 days now, it feels really good, and dad’s all for it. We drank bears, ate beef, and walked through Petros Paolos cemetery to visit aunty and grandma resting in peace. I got too excited sipping on ethiopian moonshine, thinking it was just jamey---no no---95% alcohol content X sleep deprivation made for some memorable poetic justice that now can’t be remembered...
so. much. more. to. tell. not-enough-connectivity. ciao
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