kowtow

First run at ye ole blog and since I claim to be a writer I would say it makes sense to write. No?

I have been reading, for one reason or another, a lot of books that fall under the category of hippy dippy bullshit. Zen meditation, writing from the heart, that sort of shit. I think it says something about me when I find myself cursing my way through the chapters, and conversely, solemnly nodding in agreement. Lately, I am cursing and pouting and stomping around like a baby. There is a five year old in me that wants to have a tantrum sooooo bad that I can feel it bubbling to the surface. And Gods help the person that has to pull by lumbering body off the ground amidst the flailing arms and feet as they pound on the ground.

I think that I will keep this stuff short.

Books I am reading right now: The Writing Life by Annie Dillard and The Loss of Leon Meed by Josh Emmons
Music I am listening to as I write this: "I'm Sorry, but I'm beginning to hate your face." Eagle*Seagull