On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
5-22-99
Been a long time. Don't know what to do. Stilted sentences w/o subjects. Odd abbr.s. Blandly, blandly I continue without one good thought to write, but continue to write. I do. Every day, as the heat repeats and the air is teeming with flora's team efforts, the noise crisply moist in the air, and the quaking ground more evident, strolling over water is another chore.
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