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1998 october 20 lost worldsi've lost it. lately, as i am falling asleep, i write incredible letters, awe-inspiring short stories, poems to make the gods weep, all this in my head as i slowly drift off, thinking confidently to myself, "i'll remember this. i can write it down in the morning." ha. i wrote a wonderful journal entry last night, and the world will never see its true genius, nor mine. tragic, isn't it. i am absolutely convinced that i would be making a decent living off my writing if i could only tap into that hazy time between awake and asleep. of course i could be suffering the same delusions that seem to run rampant whenever i try to create art, in any form, under the influence of mind and mood altering substances. in those cases, fewer and farther between now that i am playing a grown up in real life, i am always assured i'm spouting great philosophical truths, painting masterpieces to rival van gogh, writing the great american novel. then i come down or come up or come in whatever direction i am going to come and i realize, "huh, well that's not so special." at least i rarely say, "holy fuck but that's total crap." i'll take the small victories where i can find them. as you may have already guessed, this is all a longwinded way of saying that i don't really have anything to say, having lost the perfect entry i wrote in my head last night. better luck tomorrow guys. thinking i should take a creative nap, claire
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reading
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