I woke up in the wrong place. The wrong energy. It is Saturday. Rise out of bed day. Get excited day. I am in a no-zone. I'm not particularly happy, not sad about anything. I spent a good long while laying in bed berating myself about my lack of activity over the years. How I should have had something done by now. We know the drill. Waste of time. Waste. There is a Maas in my computer at work. Two of them. Neither of them have an exciting first name. I am drinking my coffee. Clearly I need more coffee. I think I slept too long. I laid in bed and wrote many things in my head but they never got to the computer. I want to write things. I need something to write. Everything got totally derailed when Kevin started talking to me about "story" and "plot". I understand these things are necessary. We started talking about "planning". He plans. A lot. He's been planning for months and months and months and is only getting to the writing phase now. What the fuck is that. Maybe it's different with a comic book, you have to incorporate pictures. I don't know how to do that. It's one thing to figure out what is going to happen. It's another to plan out everything before I've even started writing. Anyway I haven't been able to do it, I rarely know what is going to happen, and as a result I haven't written anything. Fiction might be lost on me. I've started scribbling thoughts about people I see walking down the street. That's a good sign. But story-telling? I just don't know. I just like to put words together and share my weird thoughts. Sometimes it tells a story. Sometimes it has line breaks but rarely is it ever poetry. So where do I fit? What do I do?
I can't talk to other writers because I hate most of them. Anytime I see work coming out of the people I used to associate with in Florida I want to punch them all in the face. Then I want to punch myself in the face because I know I can do better. Then it motivates me to write things. So that's a good thing, I suppose. But it does, it all comes out of my own insecurities. But I know how to recognize what tries so hard to be good and what is good. I've never read anything you've written but I can tell. And anyway, that is a bold faced lie for I read things you write practically every day.
And I? I don't know what my goddamn hold up is. The house needs to be cleaned. There is one. I need more coffee. There is two.
and the rest is one big bubble

Today is Saturday. It should not be like this. Saturn day. Maybe it should. I can't find my goatfish necklace anywhere. This is how it happens--I take it off, set aside for months, then I look for it and it will appear within a couple weeks. I am sad. I am worried that I've lost it. After all this time. I can't have lost it. I'm worried it was in a plastic bag that I carelessly threw away. This should be a second entry but I don't care today. Mercury is going into retrograde and so is Saturn. Rob Breszney said I can't eat my cake while it's still cooking. I knew what he meant when he read it but now I know more. Today I do. I know it's still cooking, but I want it now. I'm sick of waiting. I can make sure it's still cooking, that's really fun. He slapped my hand. That's what he did. He turned my hand over and slapped it and said, not yet. Fuck you, Saturn. Fuck you, Rob Breszney. I mean, thanks and all for your unique loves and points of view, but fuck you. I explained the goatfish to Kevin last night. How Capricorns are most often represented by the goat and not the full on goatfish. Because it's "not a real creature"? I guess. That just makes us more awesome. We're the only sign represented by a mythological creature. Awesome. But by calling us a goat and not a goatfish, we are denied our duality, we are denied our ability to tread water as well as land. Blah blah. My dad was a Taurus. I have a special relationship with Tauruses. There is usually one, only one, having a direct effect on my life at a time. Kevin's sister is an Aquarius. She's the best Aquarius I've ever met, usually I want to punch them, and she has plans to move to California. Or Florida. This makes me sad and also makes me laugh.
start again with no friendsss
I wrote a letter to a friend about my lack of need for friends and how I find it awesome. This has not changed.
Someone is smoking weed before they go to work. It smells good. Not in the 'this weed smells good' kind of way. In the 'it is early on a Saturday, this weed smells musty like there is a seed in it, it's too early my eyes burn but lets sit and watch tv in a dark room or lay around moving slow my face feels puffy' kind of way. Normally it would annoy me but clearly I am in some weird mood. Once I am up and moving I will burn apple candles and it will make that smell go away. The delicious scent of disaster
Oh yeah my grandpa has colon cancer. That's kind of shitty.
hahahahhaa
oh god I'm an asshole.
anyway, there's a garage sale across the street and I am trying to peer over to see if there's anything I want so I'd probably just have to like get up and go over there or at least put my glasses on
not that I need to be buying shit cause I don't have much money and less room for it to go

maybe I was wrong. maybe today is a good mood for going through that trunk full of papers. cause I feel some serious stagnant energy fucking my shit up. I thought I should be in a crazy queen of wands mood so I'd be able to get rid of everything, worried that this mood is too easily turned into nostalgia and so I would end up mooning about in a pile of notebooks and scrap paper and Kevin would come home from the gym to find me wrapped in a dress made of memories and my face and hands smudged with old lead and ink

what do you do with your old papers
currently I have every intention of setting them on fire