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Tuesday, October 19, 2004
She keeps the weights.
Tonight, I write more of "Somewhere Out There." It's about time I write more of it, too. I've been sluffing off on writing too much lately. Time to manage time better.
I'm hoping to make "Somewhere Out There" into a novel, if I can manage it. . .or at least a novella. Key word is hoping. A good word to use, as well, is trying - meaning, I'm trying to write a novel.
Even once it's written, I'm not done either - then I'd have to sharpen it up, revise it.
I figure Shelley wrote Frankenstein when she was only 18, and I figure I'm 18 and I can do this, too.
It's going to be rough. . .most of the stories I've written are unfinished or still rough draft.
I work tonight, but then I get my days off. Two days. And I've also got Thursday and Friday off of school. I'll be writing every night, then. . .need to get into the flow of it again.
Tomorrow I'm calling Sarah Miller. I was talking to her on AIM, and I decided we should do something, perhaps. I figure I might as well be a risk-taker, because that's what people wish they had done when they look back at their life.
oh, this laughing nothingness is housed,
the sky covering me in a thick ague
this heaven awaits
somewhere it is you
to go all these years in chains
pulling around my steel
those bruises are manifestations
dead vessels to my heart
severed apart
they'll never function again, dead gone
through
blued, blacked to the touch,
the sepulcher i lie in
so new
being reborn, so much like
starting over again
so much like,
falling from the sky
sometimes questioning why i'm alive,
all the world's a cage housing me, a beast
within its environs,
i let my call trail down like seeping dreams,
weightless free
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