The days are a malaise.
Abou’s hookah tasted a bit harsh, probably because the tobacco was dry and the hookah is old, but it was nice seeing friends. I wish I could have stayed later, but work loomed everpresent.
So many thoughts right now, and none of them coherent. Haven’t written a poem in months. My mind goes straight from idea to imaginary output with none of the intermediate steps necessarily to actually produce any text.
I’ve decided that the internet keeps me from reading as much as I’d like. I’ve resolved to read more now, but we’ll see how that goes, especially when school starts.
Maybe I’ll post more tomorrow. You know, something relevant.
I’m trying to go online less and read more as well. Same exact problem :/