My fingers are listless. They feel like drawing, painting and being messy with ink. I know
what this means. This means I should take out my pens and pencils, a blank piece
of paper, and get down to drawing something for the class jacket. What a joke. Please laugh,
that was meant to be humorous. I don't have a utility belt from which I whip out my awesome array of
pens and pencils, from dayum fine to mega-monster bold. I have one pen and one pencil.
Anyway, have been thinking about the design for three days and if it hasn't come to me yet,
chances are it never will. The jacket does not exist, it is not meant to.
I could do math, I suppose. I did math this morning. Waking up to hotcakes and Binomial expansion;
rewarding but feeling is ephemeral. Math can wait. I want to paint but I can never find that wretched
paintbrush anywhere. I don't paint, but right now the cobalt and greens are really speaking to me. Use
us, they say. We'll blend and bleed for your paltry pleasures, they say. Enticing, definitely, but
my hands are tied, guys. My hands are tied.
I wish I were still a kid where people would come to me to offer me a balloon. I was watching them give
out balloons the other day. Damn small kids, all so cute and small. I was hoping I'd get a balloon too but no,
big kids don't get nuthink. and the balloons were the helium kinds too. Double standards.
I miss Crakephertuey. It's days like these.
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