I want to get back into the habit of writing; I miss it. Tonight I’ve been reading some of my past entries. Shit, I used to be a decent writer. What the fuck happened? it’s especially interesting to read an old entry and enjoy it, and then advance to the next entry and see me completely destroy the previous:
OK, my previous entry was pretty lame; it was artificial and forced. I posted it after literally falling asleep in my chair. But I couldn’t stitch these two parts together. And I don’t think I was done thinking about it, either.
Way to tear yourself apart there.
On the other hand, I’ve drunk a fair amount of tequila tonight. Normally (and probably this is a psychosomatic effect) tequila makes me less introspective and just more accepting of things as they are. But tonight I was not in a great mood before the Jason Webley concert so I picked the spirit that ordinarily leaves me the free-est. So perhaps I’m just in no condition to judge.