Zen and the Art of Crap

Good morning, good evening, good afternoon. What it is is that it’s not what it isn’t but what it could be. It doesn’t require much, but you have to do something, you see. And when it finds you, it throttles you to the ground, pretty much makes sweet, luscious rape to you, and leaves you twitching on the floor wanting more than you could possibly bear to stand.

… … …

I’m talking about inspiration. What were you thinking about?

Green Tea. It’ll clear you right out. I’m serious. Now I know where all that talk of Tao and The Center and Zen come from. They come from a state of having emptied your entire intestinal tract in five minutes with only two or three sips of tea.

Writing in LJ today. No reason. Change of digital scenery. That, and I can never get to all my groups, and so, that’s why I’m here. To be able to dawdle more before I start writing and trawling job sites and such.

Thing is, I’m having a hard time trying to figure out what to write. I’m not hungry. I have little to no thoughts to think, and I couldn’t be more comfortable. Then again, I am supposed to be gearing up for laundry. But that doesn’t even feel like a problem. I blame the green tea.

I should be more worried about my life, but everything has taken a placid patina of green and yellow. I’m not even worried about writing enough. It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality.

Thank you, and have a nice day.


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