When I’m in a mood like I’ve been for the past… month or so, it’s hard to write about it. It’s hard to write about anything else, too; the mood itself feels like a large, heavily inflated frog, something that’s alive but also reluctant to move and slimy to the touch. What it influences me to do, mostly, is to open this window, write for a few minutes, then delete everything. Who am I, so arrogant as to write about the thing I was about to talk about? There is no experience in the world that I am truly informed about but my own, and, despite what people will say, my experiences are a more shallow and boring set than anyone else I know. Everyone has suffered more, experienced more, and done more.
Anyway, it’s a bit of a problem. I’m going to be writing more, but for now, this is just me keeping my finger in the margin, making sure I don’t lose my place.