Well, I have once again overcome the sensible urgings of the sleeping pills I took several hours ago. <\/p>\n
“There is nothing to say.” That’s a blatant lie. “There’s a book in me.” So’s that. “I’d rather sleep than eat.” That’s closer to true, at least right now because I’m stuffed. <\/p>\n
Time to redesign. A simple plan, one that offers one post per page, like My First Site. Delving into this should not start at 4:00 AM, so all I’ll do now is talk about it. <\/p>\n
I picked up my bag full of miracles the other night, and I told the pharmacist when he asked if my address was the same, “It’ll be famous someday because I lived there.” Right, I’ll be like a lesbian in Amherst, and they’ll be traipsing in and out of my worn wood room, like Emily’s. <\/p>\n
It’s sad when the best use of time is sleep. Sadder still when light is no reason to rise. And perhaps there is nothing sadder than waiting for the light before I lay me down to sleep. <\/p>\n
I hate people. I love people only from afar, as the Polar Bears do, who see beyond their own extinction, from an in-extinctable perspective, to places we refuse to see. They don’t resent us. They are free of hate. They know we hate ourselves enough to make up for it. <\/p>\n
I never read; I feel guilty for it. Like not reading is the root of all evil. Like reading cures. Maybe if I’d read three books a week, I could have been a writer. <\/p>\n
Read exliontamer<\/a>. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Well, I have once again overcome the sensible urgings of the sleeping pills I took several hours ago. “There is nothing to say.” That’s a blatant lie. “There’s a book in me.” So’s that. “I’d rather sleep than eat.” That’s … Continue reading