Hoc Est Qui Sumus (discoflamingo) wrote,
Hoc Est Qui Sumus
discoflamingo

Random Notes from Scraps of Paper and Bits of Mind

Fruit Flies Like an Apple.

Drum. Drummer. Drummest.

The uncluttering of my room is like the organization of the soul. My soul is full of books, and papers, and random notes, articles, magazines, half-finished journals, essays, poems, stories, and aborted novels. CD's full of who knows what, storage discs labelled "1, 2, 3, . . . , A, B, . . . , 11, 1A, . . . "

I am almost finished with the book. House of Leaves. Maybe I'll feel a little more centered when it's over. I only have the Pelican Poems and Truant's mother's letters left.

There's something odd about a journal - a place to investigate yourself. Why would anybody write a journal? Even one they keep to themselves, they hope that someday somebody might read it, or they wish only to sort out their thoughts. Me, it's a combination of both.

Once again, Chi-Mas presents this year will be books that I think you should read. I have about two cubic feet of them awaiting allocation.
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