I write about thinking.

And feeling and shit. But very seldomly do I write about actual things that happen outside of my skull.

I wish I would do that more. Vacation into reality and write an amusing anecdote or two grounded in “real life” situations and goings-on (that just will never not sound fucked up grammatically, so I’m leaving it).

But I don’t do much I guess. Or not much worth noting.

Shall soon hopefully. But… What I do and what I think very rarely connect. I have a much more vibrant and interesting and active imagination than I have real-ly. I do very little. And what I do do (heheheh) is at very best compulsory, mostly because I think it’s what I should do to make people think I am a part of society and participating in the land of the living.

I’d much rather read, thank you.

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