its only noon but

i feel like im not going to finish my 1200 words today. maybe ill start writing right after i type this. that happened last time. but until i come up with a decent direction to go in, i shall blab on here.

so...what shall we catch up on? i wish there were a few more people reading, even if they were jackasses so i could level some criticism their way. thats always a good way to get yourself ranting. but alas, im nearly alone on this crappy little blog.

grrr. i cant even write a fucking blog. this must just be one of those really dry days where nothing will come out of me; maybe there arent any words left out there. yup. thats what it is. all the words are gone today so theres no way i couldve written anything in the first place.

i know what youre thinking. why wont he just put himself out of his misery? why doesnt he just stop writing on this thing. why was there not a question mark at the end of the last question? i dont have answers for any of those questions. THE WORDS ARE GONE.

help me find them, maybe?

memorizing time. yesterday's was the first stanza of e e cummings' thy fingers make early flowers




The Negro Speaks of Rivers by langston hughes

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.