Once more I am writing about writing and once more I find myself struggling to do so, as this is the final stretch and we are rounding the corner of my complete and utter disregard for writing a story that goes somewhere. It has all gone nowhere and somehow I am fine with that, but of course we will have to see as to how it all pans out by this evening. I may stop writing for the rest of the day after this. I am not entirely certain. There are things to do, even though it is my day off. It never ends, so I shall keep on sweating whilst I sweat over the things that I am attempting to write. It is a lascivious lifestyle, let me tell you.
Anyway, it is rather warm in here at the moment and I think part of that is due to clouds trapping in the heat. Supposedly it will son thunderstorm and it makes me think about the rain and being inside whilst it rains. I don’t necessarily want to write about that, but that is what is coming forward and so that is what will come out of my writing today. Yes, it is a slow day. I should have started a bit earlier, but I’ve been lazy, so here I am now and that is okay. It could be worse. It could be better, but it could be worse.
Still, I’d rather not be smelling the smell of my own sweat right now. I had a shower earlier, don’t want to feel like having another one so soon, or so presently. Such is the way of things I guess. Could be raining outside right now though, and that would make me think more about the rain than I perhaps I would like, but sometimes that is the way that things go. It’s not a bad thing to think about the rain, admittedly.
Maybe it is if you’re overly fixated on it for no discernible reason, but maybe that too is not a bad thing. I don’t know if it is or is not, but what I do know is that right now I am okay with my room of bed being warmer than I would like as somehow it is galvanising me into action.
Well, that is what I am telling myself. I don’t actually know if that is indeed the case. Maybe it is my own desire to do things that is making me do them. Maybe I can blame myself for this one. If I can, well, I guess then I can blame myself for my writing of things that don’t seem to matter or make any sense to write down, unless they do make sense, in which case, here you go. It all makes sense as I said so and somehow this will be the work of a genius, for the genius is just so inherent in the writing.
Well, it’s time to leave fantasy land.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 04:46:94
If there is one thing that NaNoWriMo has helped me with this year (other than other things I’ve stated in prior inane writings), it is my writing speed. Seems to be getting a fair bit faster over the past few weeks.
Anyway, this bit of writing is rubbish.
Written at home.