![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Brain feeling all mushy.
Do not want to write or read or do anything. Kind of done with everything and everybody for the day.
I disappointed my girlfriend today. But she needs to write her story. I know enough to when she says "help" it means "Do it for me." I have stuff of my own to write and do not need to step into a universe she has been playing in for 30 years. A well-constructed fictional universe that hundreds or thousands of people can share, sure. Someone's private game? not so much.
Deeply bitchy the last couple of days. I think the politics is getting to me.
"But what else could I expect from a bunch of low-rent, no-account hoodlums like you? Hoodlums, yes, I mean you and your friends, your whole sex. Throw 'em in the sea for all I care. Throw 'em in and wait for the bubbles. Men, with your groping and spitting. All groin, no brain. Three billion of ya' passin' around the same worn out urge. Men... with your sales."
But, I write It's what I do. Inspiration, who needs it? Determination and advil will see me through.
"Mood? What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises — no matter the mood! Mood's a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It's not for fighting."
Off to do battle with the page.
Do not want to write or read or do anything. Kind of done with everything and everybody for the day.
I disappointed my girlfriend today. But she needs to write her story. I know enough to when she says "help" it means "Do it for me." I have stuff of my own to write and do not need to step into a universe she has been playing in for 30 years. A well-constructed fictional universe that hundreds or thousands of people can share, sure. Someone's private game? not so much.
Deeply bitchy the last couple of days. I think the politics is getting to me.
"But what else could I expect from a bunch of low-rent, no-account hoodlums like you? Hoodlums, yes, I mean you and your friends, your whole sex. Throw 'em in the sea for all I care. Throw 'em in and wait for the bubbles. Men, with your groping and spitting. All groin, no brain. Three billion of ya' passin' around the same worn out urge. Men... with your sales."
But, I write It's what I do. Inspiration, who needs it? Determination and advil will see me through.
"Mood? What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises — no matter the mood! Mood's a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It's not for fighting."
Off to do battle with the page.
