"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit cross'd his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Monday, July 04, 2005

the fountain of words...

can you write about something even though you're happy with the way things are going in your life? i'd say, yes... but why is it that when you're sad, lonely, miserable, and depressed (poor unfortunate soul?), words just seem to flow right out in a steady stream? as sure as there is tap water at h0me, it just springs from your mind and vocabulary... now, i think technically it's because being miserable is m0re intense than happiness. and not in a good way... how many happy people do you know have taken another's life or their own? as elle said, "money creates endorphins, endorphins make you happy... happy people don't just kill their husbands..." see? having said that, let me get back to my point... i used to write almost every night back when i was "un"-happy... and now that i am, i feel like i'm stifling myself for not documenting what's going on... so now, i write... a simple change of mindset was all that i needed to produce written words that are mostly the extension of my emotions in cyberspace... so... carrie, a callback for you... you're needed in my head...

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