Monday, October 15, 2007

Bummer. It's a Monday. A very ordinary one. But it's a Monday. Waking up is a hangover. The first bits of winter are frozen against the balcony window door and there's a morbid sense of existence on my way to work in an auto.
The good thing here is that I can write whatever the shit I want to. I'm terrible with writing structured plot. To help myself I create a faint outline, but no plots. Right now I'm wasting your time as well as mine. Lately writing has dipped and I don't think it's going to get better. I feel like Barton Fink a bit in front of the keyboard.
So what about hope? Hope in writing or in existence? Is there any point to it. I see futility. But there is hope, isn't there? Waiting to bless you as you kneel against your very own Pandora's box. Oh darkness and it's bitter dreams. But can one live in hope? Maybe there is life somewhere else just like Earth. If our very own existence was an accident, a big bang that took place some million years ago -- the probability of another one? Sure. Sure. Dreamers.
I see futility on a Monday. And just like everyone else I need a coffee.


Blogger The Dude said...

ah mondays, i know thee well... long have they been the bane of my existence!
try as we might they cant be escaped!
you speak of chance, hope and destiny and these are perhaps the most panful topics for folk like us as we want them answered more than almost all others and know that in all likelihood will never do so..
but as i may have already told you (i repeat mself a lot!) "if god exists we need not worry. If he does not, we need not be aimless..."
hope your week gets better, keep yourself easy and tomorrow is always another day..

6:48 PM, October 22, 2007  

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