#143

jesus god how much agony can one soul take without even the promise of some goddam ecstasy even wagner had some joyful moments amid his potato eating misery of unproduced madness and here i am in blustery laurel canyon pissing into a ditch my mind turning mushy from lack of outcome i think i am a good writer because everyone tells me so but i cannot get anything to come of my productivity in fact i cant even get a job to support myself and i am gonna have to move into some flophouse closet with bunkbeds and used syringes and beer cans full of newport ashes and sticky floors maybe i should get a job at a hostel and just be impoverished until a magical quentin tarantino moment materializes out of the ether because all this proactivity is getting me nowhere at the speed of light speaking of which isnt calfornia supposed to be sunny and warm and not cloudy and blustery and cold like it has been since november when the rains started and all these quality screenplays started pouring out of me to no satisfying conclusion but what choice does a lowly writer have but to keep pressing on in the face of jesus god how much agony