Cannot write a poem again, but I have to. I am already a few weeks behind on the poetry quota for my English class, but sometimes I just can't get words out of a headache. The truth is I actually wrote a pagefull today but it is no good.
I haven't been writing emails either because frankly I am sick of them. It's that kind of stage when I am very happy to have facebook. Because it organizes things for me, much better than an email inbox. There will come a point when I will want to free my life records from the influence of the software I use for it, but right now it's just nice to have things in place somewehere and accessible. This isn't mere complaining, I am actually thinking of a form of narrative that would be appropriate for the content and I am not even sure whether it should be one big project or a combination of little ones. Should things be left to the style of the era they emerged from, or should they be revisited? And how introspective should any of this even be, when there is a need for looking outwards along with the inascapable innerness in art...
I guess it is the problem of having developped a recognizable focus on autobiography in my work. I'm not sure if I can ever escape that or whether I even want to.
Ooh! But Alex just came by and got me some chocolate. And now everything is better.
