i had an idea on the train that wont materialize for me again for some reason. I just walked into my room and stood by my window with shades drawn staring at the beige sheet of hard plastic trying to recall exactly what it was. it had to do with the phrasing, thats what made it special, but now it wont come back to me. maybe it is gone forever and maybe its only a momentary loss. i guess it depends if the thought was part of a larger arc of internalizing lessons or if it was passing and superficial. right now I am typing into my blog for the second time in my life and i think it is going smoothly. to soothe my peripheral perceptions i have the tv on to public television, there is an old timey movie on, in color, and it has something to do with making people laugh although it is obviously not funny by virtue of the fact that it is old and the sound is on too quietly. from the kitchen sounds of the new brooklyn realworld blare from tinny computer speakers. thats funny, the visual of an old movie and the sounds of new tv, i guess its pretty old for being new but i would say that the real world is definitely of the new school, its just not an emerging or bleeding edge show. it is not bleeding.  i have to pee. i like doing things when i have to pee, it gives everything a sense of urgency. my left forearm is sore, the veins are popping out to an abnormal degree and it makes me worried for my right arm, which i feel isnt keeping up its muscular developement, but i have no idea how to deal with that. i still want to buy a jump rope and some business cards. if i had spent ten dollars less on coffee and alcohol in the last fifteen days, which is when my desire for these two things first emerged, then i could buy them now and it would essentially be free. i think money was mostly invented for the purchasing of substances that alter the mind state though, thats why the addiction to doing drugs and the addiction to spending money on meaningless and trivial trifling items feels the same. the high is short lived and afterwards you want to eat but dont want to cook. i think i am doing well by myself by not doing too many drugs, i think it keeps me a little bit sharper especially when it comes to communicating, i have been suprised at my ability to speak with other human beings in real time recently and in places where i felt i was due for a major fuck up and consequent time in reflection and self improvement thought i've been met with meaningful and gratifying conversation.

the cold swift water of creative fearful energy surges through the desert of boundless possibility and gives nothing to the shore. it pounds away at the night and plugs away at the day but never for a moment would it change direction and the negativity of the water inhibits me from entering its murky and inky body. the waves and ripples and edges and arches in the river. it is a sharp river and it is an unforgiving river, its flow is swift and it is filled with crocodiles. cold water crocodiles. if it was warm water they would not be so grumpy but you can never trust a crocodile so swimming is out of the question. i have no response and i have no remorse, little recourse and no patience. the show must go on, we must irrigate and canal and dam the damn thing up. i dont see another option, the truth is i barely saw this one and i sacrificed much to reach it, many vague and replacable people and ideas were given to this dream and i will awake with a sore back, to eat the same meal i have eaten a million times before. im not lazy, im industrious and there is plenty to say about that. karmas a bitch, you get what you give, it all equals out in the end. throw me a fucking bone.