Distractions from writing: 1. Silky, 2. Blog, 3. Cleaning

Places for writing:

1. Shower
2. Bars, Day or Night.
3. Coffee shops
4. Book shops
5. Empty desk with headphones
6. Waiting rooms
7. Bed

Edibles while writing:

1. Tea
2. Wine
3. Beer
4. Gummies, all sorts
5. Water, but only in a pretty glass
6. Ramen

Of course these things are incidental, but they recur so often for me it's kinda silly.

Mostly I've been feeling claustrophobic the last couple (literally) days. When I'm all bunched up like this my thoughts jumble on top of each other like an old graveyard bristled with trees. Each thought is disturbed by its neighbors and none get laid out straight.

In between thoughts, my head is neither fuzzy/foggy nor clear/empty; just running, just idling. It's a weird zenlike state where absolutely nothing but the abstract present exists. Although, ultimately, a desirable state of mind, I want very much to create, and the creation I desire is boiling just out of periphery, just outside my little white sand mind.

And if you can read a person's mind from their punctuation, what the hell is there to learn from all the fucking commas in that last paragraph. Golly!