One Thousand Word Challenge 225: It Started with Bundt Cake

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Okay, so for some reason I think that right now I can churn out a thousand more words. I think I can do this but tit’s a bad idea, but we;ll see what happens.

Let me rephrase: I think I can churn out a thousand more words right now. I still have a few more after that to hit a target that is entirely my own, but I think I can do it and so that is what I’m going to do. But who knows how ti will turn out. I don’t.

So I’m sitting here and you get the idea and now I’m all out of ideas. I could write about looking for them, but I’ve done that before. No need to repeat the past. Don’t want to be doing that. I could just go on a lengthy, unmitigated tangent about how snow applies to the thesis of the bundt cake,  but if there are no ways around exploding drivel, there’s no real point.

Hang on: Why does the WordPress spellcheck think that “bundt” is incorrectly spelt? That’s a real word. Why is this the case? What?

You know, they’ll probably update the checker after this, thus dating this bit of this tangent, and then I’m done for, for I will look like a fool. However, what a lot of people won’t realise is that this update will render this an archival document. It will be something for Internet archeologists to unearth and then wonder about. It marks a time of change and it changes the marks in time. Everything changes; even time, and so do spellcheckers. You hope they would.

What if WordPress don’t update their checker? Well then, I might still look like a fool for making an assumption that wasn’t to be, and then what? How will I live my life knowing that I made such a heinous mistake? I will have to live in isolation. I will have to disappear and live off the land and go on a journey that is as long and arduous as it is arduous and long, and then some! I don’t know what I will do for myself.

Now of course there will be beautiful seasides and idyllic fields and all that other junk, but I won’t be able to appreciate it, for my thoughts will turn inward as I ruminate upon my mistake. As I think about how I went so wrong on something that was so easily avoidable.

You know, you will have these beautiful scenes of rolling water, and the sound of it crashing against the land somewhere below. Grass will be a nice, verdant green among a sky of bits and pieces of clouds, and mostly blue and continuous, extending eternally. The path will follow the top and a breeze will blow the grass. It’ll sway and bend with the wind’s desires, and it’ll be pleasant. It won’t be too hot; it’ll be just fine. I won’t be there. I’ll be walking through it, but I won’t be there.

Among the shrubs and scrub of the bush, sun will shine and make things appear sharper than they are. More bristly. The beauty of the trees and the various stories in their bark will create some sort of tapestry, and here and there birdsong will be heard, and maybe the scurrying of various other creatures. The ground will be uneven, but still able to be followed; to be crossed, and I’ll be heading through it, in this heat and coolness mixed into one. I will be walking through it, but the walk won’t show me the sights and the wonder of this scrubby bush; I’ll be looking inward, trying to work out how it was that I was able to make such a mistake.

I will be wondering as to how future generations will view me, for my errors in judgement were the most profoundly incorrect. I will stand tall as a cautionary tale to those who think they are able to do better, but no one will be able to, for the mistakes had been made and there is no undoing them. Trying to merely repeats and creates cycles, and definitely in that order. This is something that cannot be allowed to happen, though more people wandering and thinking about where they have gone wrong is probably a good thing. Probably better than staying glued to a computer constantly, in situations where not being glued to a computer constantly are definitely better. But who is to say at this point in time?

So now I must think about my options. I can undo this error in judgement. I actually have the ability to, which sacrifices many words used to say very little. I can also keep going. I can refuse to relent, and live with what the future will think of me. It’s a tough call, really, but it is mine to make, and make it I will or will not.

Maybe I won’t make it at all and let whatever comes guide me to the future, and from there I can do whatever and nothing more, and find out what it is. But then if I find out and it’s deeply embarrassing, maybe I’ll go for that walk anyway. I’ll go for that walk where I don’t appreciate what is around me in order for me to be able to look inward and ruminate and think far too much on too little. It’s a tough decision, really.

Maybe I should just go for the walk anyway. Once my foot is better, of course. If I do it now, it might not be worthwhile. Or it could be. I am yet to find out, but find out I will. Or I won’t.

Ah, stuff it. Think I’ll just go get myself a tea and relax a bit, and take it all sorts of easy. That seems like a better idea than any other I’ve had, and I know I’ve had quite a few bad ones.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:51:59

Decent speed, decent silliness.

Written at home.

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A Homely Hut in a Quarry

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Whilst I was in Sydney Olympic Park on Saturday (and before I injured my foot), I was walking around The Brickpit Ring Walk. It had been a while since I was last there, decided it’d be nice to see.

I’ve taken photos of this space before, but perhaps not from this angle. Can’t remember.

This is my submission into the three hundred-and-sixty-sixth Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “City Mouse/Country Mouse“. From what I’ve read, the theme is based on Aesop’s fable of (roughly) the same name about there being no place like home.

The idea of this place is very much an appealing one. A small place with some sort of aquaculture going on, small amount of land used. A humble life. But this still is in the city; away from The CBD, but close enough. It’s in a decommissioned quarry that was also a brickpit; it’s in an area that, whilst is being repurposed, is heavily damaged. The idea of this place is appealing, but the reality of it means that home is hard to beat.

Besides that, I’m pretty sure this hut is used for research of some sort and not living.

The host of the Lens-Artists challenges cycles weekly between the following people:

Tina

Patti

Ann-Christine aka Leya

John Steiner

Sofia Alves

Anne Sandler

Egídio

Ritva

Beth

This one is curated by Tina. The next one is guest-curated by Joanne of Joanne Mason Photography.

I recommend joining the community and participating in the challenges. They’re pretty straightforward, allow room for interpretation, and provide a good way to think about photography in general. If not, however, then at the very least you should check out what others submit to the challenges.

I hope you enjoy.

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Yoichiro Yoshikawa: Invitation to the Underwater World

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I’ve listened to this album a few times now, and I’m not sure why but this track caught me off guard. I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting it to be what it was, but I think that helped. I dug a bit further in than usual and pulled something out that I think works well.

Yoichiro Yoshikawa’s (吉川洋一郎) “Invitation to the Underwater World” (“海中へのいざない”) is from Aqua Fantasty (アクア・ファンタジー).

I hope you enjoy.

—

Waves. Maybe just currents, but it sounds like waves heard from under and above the surface at the same time. Something bubbles, or just makes a noise. Gaps of silence, or implied silence. A stillness. An empty space. It starts to become clearer, or at lest more likely that this is above the surface. Another sound, could be a bird. Maybe the noises between have been birds the whole time.

Birds in a space, and water submerges and comes out on another side. It continues to move and churn, and it moves with power. It moves and allows space for the other sounds; for those sounds that could be birds, and perhaps might not be. But they could be.

There’s this rhythmic dance here. It’s a dance found in nature, and it’s not so much about flow of rhythm, but it is about changing of space. It speaks of motion and years; of memories that don’t exist; of the changing of eons, and the shape of the land and the biota which inhabits it, and how the ocean plays a significant part. It talks of relation until the final movement of water at the song’s end.

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Lone Truck on a Lone Drive

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Truthfully there was traffic nearby. I stayed at this spot for the opportunity to capture the scene with one vehicle visible and this was the best one. I think it works in terms of space and isolation. For some reason I feel a sense of melancholy when looking at this, too.

I hope you enjoy.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 224: The Other Side of Burnout

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Sometimes I get this sense that life has left me behind. Or that it’s drifting away from me. This is something I really, REALLY do not like. It’s difficult because I know that if I spend enough time resting (and rest is very much needed) I’ll probably start feeling it less and be more functional. However, I’ve been operating on burnout for so long now as I’m afraid of time slipping away, and it is slipping away.

That’s a bit of a grim way to start this bit of writing, but it’s true. It’s honest. I know where my time has gone and I know where it’s going. I’m probably more productive and less burned out than I realise, but I don’t feel it. I feel deflated and I’m tired. Been sleeping a little better over the past two nights and that’s good, but I’m still tired.

Think I’ve years of sleep loss to make up for at this point.

But I’, sitting here and I’m thinking to myself about what I’m not achieving. I don’t need to achieve anything now. I know that. I know I still have many years ahead of me to do things that I can consider a success, but I still feel it slipping away. I feel as though I have been left behind and there’s little I can do about it.

I think getting dumped might have done more damage to me than I initially realised.

So anyway, what can I do about this? I’ve always carved out my own lane (I think), not that that necessarily means I’m going to change the world or attract massive attention for my “daring” ability and “courage” in the face of overwhelming odds, but it is something I’ve done. And yet, I still yearn to be ahead of the curve; to be adored by a populace that’ll shower me with praise I think I deserve.

I’m thinking about everything I’ve written and “drawn” and photographed. I’m thinking of the music I’ve made and all the living I’ve lived. It doesn’t feel like a waste, but I wonder if I had more hustle or business sense, if I would’ve gone farther sooner. I wonder about that. I don’t think working a regular job is beneath me, and I do like having the stability. I like knowing that I’m not having to worry as much about the next meal or keeping a roof over my head as I used to be, but I also feel that where I should be is in a space where I can create without having to worry about having a job, or worry about shelter and food. A lot of people feel the same, really.

I don’t know if that would put me ahead of the curve, or if that would mean I wouldn’t feel like I’m being left behind, but I do wonder, sometimes.

It’s not too late. It’s never too late, but time gets away from me and I’m sitting here, having to rest. Having to take care of an injury, which is fine, but it also means I’m more willing to let myself bog myself down in my thoughts instead of pick up a pen and write something, or make music or draw, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m so prepared to defeat myself, and I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be able to stand up and feel as productive as I am.

It’s a beautiful day outside and I’m stuck inside. I’d also be stuck inside if I were in the office, but there’d be better light and more opportunity to move about. Right now I’m stuck going nowhere. I’m stuck sitting here, trying to get through the day, trying to get work done and trying to not feel like life has left me behind. It’s not a good way to be thinking. It’s not good for the psyche.

Could be worse, of course. I’m still alive and I’m still functional. So long as I can tick those two boxes, I can keep on going. I can keep on surviving and I have the chance to thrive again. I have the chance to be something bigger, or at least have a bit more satisfaction in what I am doing in life. But it takes time, and it involves a lot of hard work. It involves trying to override calcified habits. They can be overridden, but it takes times. It takes work.

So I feel like shit and I’m despairing. So what? I do this a lot and I also write about this a lot. What’s new.

What’s new indeed.

I think that there is something that can be taken from this, and that it takes a lot of work to get through things. I think what people tend to forget to mention, however, is that a lot of work stops feeling like a lot of work if you get into a routine. You need to maintain some flexibility in order to prevent burnout. You need to know when to say no, or when to postpone. Those sorts of things. However, the more one works on something, the less a lot of work feels like a lot of work.

You develop a handle on how to manage things. You get ideas about what the next steps are. You start seeing how things come together and you work out how to improve your own processes. If done carefully and considerately, you start working out when to stop some things and take a break. You might stop feeling like life is leaving you behind. You might start seeing where you fit into things.

A lot of work to look after yourself, and I need to look after myself. It’s a lot of work and time, and maybe I’ll get there. Maybe you will, too. Maybe I’ll finally get to the other side of burnout. Maybe I’ll rest and recover. I will keep going either way.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:26:09

Bit of a mess, but I feel this is important stuff. Not enough people talk about these kinds of things. Though perhaps a lot of people do and I’m not aware.

Written at home.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 223: Bad Idea

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Okay so this is a bad idea, but right now I’m wondering as to how many words in one month I can write. It doesn’t matter as to what the content is; it just depends on how much I can write in one month.

Would stuff that’s half-finished count? I don’t know. I’d hope so. But it was written in another month and not this one, so maybe not. But still, I think I could clear quite a lot. I reckon I could. I’d probably give up after a few days, but maybe I can do something that intense. That pointlessly intense.

It’s an exercise in indulgence, in a sense. An exercise in tedium, and maybe that is what I am good at doing. Maybe I’m meant to do tedium and not much of anything else. Maybe tedium is my true calling. There is, of course, only one way to find out, and that’s by diving right in and getting on with it. Getting on with the getting on and going on and moving forward and all of those things.

But will it happen today?

Well, I’m stills tuck at home but I’ve work to do. So… maybe. It could happen. I don’t want to necessarily start rumour that may be just that, but there is a possibility, but it is only a possibility. I need to get on top of a lot of things and all that razzmatazz that makes me sound more productive than I actually am. Yet to find out. Yet to be determined. Yet to know if there really is going to be success in this kind of pointlessness.

So do I do it? I’m sure I’ll feel pretty wrecked by the end of it, but maybe I do. Maybe I’ll aim for quite a lot today, then more tomorrow, then more the day after, then more…

From what I’ve heard, Stephen King write quite a lot of words a day. If he can do it, then surely so can I. To be fair, his mind works far better in terms of inspiration and creativity than mine does, but you know.

Now I’m wondering as to how many words Kate Grenville writes per day.

Maybe through this process things will come forward that I’ve been looking and hoping for for a while. Maybe things will become clear and I’ll finally hit that target, and then I’ll be fine to go ahead with whatever else comes my way. Whatever else comes swinging. I can swing back, but maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just get on with my life. I don’t know.

So I guess, what I’m saying right now is that I’m getting back on track. I had a plan and it was derailed, and now I’m re-railing. This plan does involve a lot of words. A lot of crap written. A celebration of crap. A celebration of crappy writing in a crappy way. But you know how it is. If you’ve been following me long enough, you know what to expect. I don’t, but you do.

All your fault, really.

So this is the part where I extend this bit of writing beyond anything reasonable (not that it wasn’t already) and go on a tangent about how I can only blame you, the reader, for what this is. This is what I’m meant to do and this is what I’d like to do, but, truthfully, I can’t. I can’t bring myself to be that kind of pointlessness. There are so many other things far more worthwhile to say, and maybe I will say them. I don’t know. It is yet to be determined. What hasn’t been determined is the result of this experiment (assuming it is an experiment, or at least pretending it is).

I think that, maybe, just maybe, if I do something this pointless, I might just be able to get Stupidity Hole back to what it was meant to be way back in the day: uninformed writings from an arrogant Sydneysider. Some of what I have written has been far more literal an interpretation of that statement than I ever intended, because what I mean by that is a lot of silly, whimsical, absurd writing that, whilst is pointless, is still something to read, if that makes sense. Yes, I want to touch on the poignant. I want top have people feel something, but I also just want to write silly stuff. I want to write silly stuff and find some humour among it all. Not so much in the writing itself, but the fact that someone would put something so silly and ridiculous out… maybe.

Okay, I’m not sure if I do want to do humour. But you know.

So maybe that’s how the last few writings here will end up. I don’t know right now. I’m sure they’ll actually end up more openly introspective, and then I’ll think about things and then move on with my life. There aren’t many months left at this point, but there are just enough and I’ve got to keep on going with it. I’ve got to keep pushing on and get through, and try to get back to being celebratory, even if I am fucking miserable at the moment. But who knows what will happen.

I can only imagine that, given enough time, I’ll have a clearer idea of what is happening. Of what is going on. It takes time and it takes a lot of time. But sometimes these things become clear with enough work, and maybe that’s how it’ll happen. Maybe things will become clear just as a random thought whilst out somewhere at some point. Maybe nothing will be clear and this space will just end, and that will be that.

Things are tough. I’m scared of succeeding. I’m scared of completing things. I’m scared of what comes after everything wraps up. I’ve had a good run though, and if it doesn’t finish with a bang, then at least with some satisfaction.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:38:77

Bit faster. Bit of a stretching, bit of a reaching, but a bit faster. A bit smoother, too. At least in some places.

Written at home.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 222: Want to Write

Posted on September 22, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

I don’t know what to write at the moment. I want to write. I’ve wanted to write for a while. I’ve wanted to write something that has meaning and intent. I’ve said this a few times and I’ll keep saying it as that’s what I want to do, but I don’t know if I have it in my. Still, I try.

I’m ignoring the essay drafts I have when I say this. I mean in terms of this rush to get words out. This is where I want to write something with meaning. Something that says something that might just appeal to people. That has some poignancy that might just make someone feel something. Perhaps a form of relation; that there are others going through the same shit as them at the same time as them. I don’t know.

I don’t set out to write for attention or praise. I don’t write for money, though it definitely would be nice if I got money from my writing. But all that, sometimes I do wish my writing had greater appeal. Sometimes I wish my writing was more relational, or at least not obtusely relational. Sometimes I do wish I had that appeal.

I’m off my feet at the moment due to hurting myself on Saturday. I drove up to Hornsby to have lunch with two of my ex’s friends. They recently had a baby, I wanted to catch up with them. Hadn’t seen them since some time last year.

They said I seemed happier and less drained than whilst I was with my ex, and I appreciate that this is something a lot of people I know have seen in me, but it still makes me sad a little. But it was a good lunch and a good time, and I’ll see them again some time.

My plans for after were cancelled, and a friend of mine was at Oz Comic-Con. I was considering going after the lunch, but it was fifty dollars a ticket and I wouldn’t have had much time when I got there. I’ve wanted to go to Supernova for a while and keep forgetting. Think I wanted to go before I went to Tokyo Game Show back in 2015, but I know I did after. But I didn’t go to this convention, but I did go to Sydney Olympic Park, where it was held, for a walk.

The walk was fine. Nothing worth talking about. Bit of sadness, bit of pleasantness. Usual. When I was walking back and near the car, I felt a twinge in my right foot. Another step, another twinge. May have been a third. Not sure, but it passed and I forgot about it. Come yesterday and I was in pain with every step and so I’ve been off my feet since yesterday, and housebound too, though I guess that goes without saying.

My steps weren’t any different from usual. I was walking normally and this happened, and now I’m dealing with grief and it’s not fun. I’m dealing with grief over someone that, at least from the view of my friends, was not good for my health and ability to function, and these things take time. But it’s also making me grieve my writing, too. Or at least grieve what my writing could be and is not.

So I’m stuck at home and I have no choice but to think about stuff. I mean, I could think about other things, but that’s not how these things go, usually. I’m here at home, living with my thoughts, hoping they go away. I’m thinking of the friends I’ve lost this year and how I’m doing better without them in my life, and I’m thinking about how I can do better with my writing. But I don’t know when the thoughts move on from the loop they’re in. That’s the main issue I have; that I’m stuck and I’m waiting to be able to move on properly. Because I’ve let everything hurt and it still hurts. These things take time, but I’m tired of it.

I want to paint my images. I want to use my words. I want to find where things go and I want to be able to properly follow them again. I want to be able to look at the stars and not feel like shit. I never really got to look at stars with my ex, and I doubt that it’ll happen at this point, but I know that I can look at them and find something in them that I can write about. Something that I can put into words that’ll make sense and say something. I want to use my words well. I want to use them in a way that’s better than I previously have, and it takes time. It takes time and it hurts as I’ve felt stuck for so long.

The start of this year was slow, but it was building up steam. I was getting onto a roll. I was getting things written and I was gaining traction in a new space. Then I was dumped and everything came to a halt. I’m not blaming my ex for my inability to write. It’s just a result of something that I found to be heavily stressful and affecting. That’s the way things go sometimes. What can I do. It just sucks that finally something was happening and then it wasn’t.

If photography and music are coming back to me, then writing will as well. I can live with that. Maybe I can keep working on getting better and I will, but I also want to be able to say something in these masses of words. I don’t want to just in essay format. But sometimes you don’t get a say in what comes forward and so you just have to work with what you have. You have to work it and make it something that you can stand behind, and I’ll keep working what I have.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 16:08:54

I know what I was trying to say here and I think it came through. Took too many words, but I think I got it out.

Written at home.

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Yoichiro Yoshikawa: Castle Nixe

Posted on September 22, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

Heard this song a few days ago, queued it up. Getting back into the swing of things (I hope), so need to get back to working on being on top of everything. And it is work, but I’ll get there.

Anyway, I went in. Tried to just capture the song. Bit of repetition, or rather hesitancy to progress, but I think I captured an idea of the song well enough.

Yoichiro Yoshikawa’s (吉川洋一郎) “Castle Nixe” (“ニクス城”) is from Aqua Fantasty (アクア・ファンタジー).

I hope you enjoy.

—

Bright, muted sound shimmering and shining through a thick area. A thick atmosphere. Calm, gentle, peaceful. Perhaps joyous. Slow and wafting. Another rises, plays fast and slow. Rises, falls, sinks, comes to a rest, then goes right back up.

Everything moves carefully. Everything seems to move with a deliberate slowness. Aside from this one sound. Everything seems to be about a calm idea of the ocean under the surface. Sounds move here and there as though schools of fish, and various other biota. Some appear for brief moments; others stay a little longer.

Currents move almost imperceptibly, or at least seem like that is the case. Sounds sway and move as needed, and everything is held still in a moving time. Everything is held still, and everything moves with a vividness. The grandeur comes through, and something shines in from above. Something shines in and disappears, and all is calm, and fades out at the song’s end.

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Kyojaku.: The Philosopher’s Refutation

Posted on September 21, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen, though had to start again about a minute in.

I tried to just talk about what was going on and I think I did well enough there. Could’ve used fewer words. Maybe.

Kyojaku.’s (虚弱。) “The Philosopher’s Refutation” (“哲学者の論破“) is from The Solitary Stage (孤高の画壇). I’m not sure on the English song and album title; they’re what translating software told me they are, so hopefully they’re correct.

I hope you enjoy.

—

From low noise comes a hum before everything bursts in. Striking and angular, making itself known, before shifting into something with a bit more space. That low noise seems to have been percussive; it repeats a few times before the guitar oscillates.

The percussion feels almost militant, or strident, and bass plays low and high where required. It gives space, it loosens; it gets busier, it tightens. Keys are playing a main pattern, or at least expanding on what is already there.

The sounds seem dry and doleful, or maybe not at all. Maybe they’re celebratory. There is a seriousness to this, however. A focus, and a build that isn’t readily apparent. Through sections of drama and determination, and celebration, rising and falling.

Guitar alone before everything returns and continues ever forward, steady and directed. Not so much asking question but rather reaffirming. Another moment of striking, similar to early on before letting loose a little and driving hard. A strike for a brief pause before charging onward once more.

Keys continue moving along with everything else, enhancing the rhythm, colouring the melody. But everything is working a part and everything congeals into a single sound of many parts.

There’s a lowering of the energy here, tightening and loosening, tightening and loosening before moving a bit more flowing once more. Flowing melodically, a slight release and back into it, in something that seems quieter, though no less dramatic.

Sounds fall away, leaving guitar to disappear in a hum at the song’s end.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1537: Saturday Drivel

Posted on September 20, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Got a bunch of things to do in one hour and so now it’s time to power through it all. Now it’s time to get the things done. We;l, not really, but it is, but I’m not. I’m doing this instead,

Trying to speed away. Trying to speed on. Listening to an album or the first time and perhaps the last time it’ll be the first time. Who is to say what will happen in the future?

The day carries a brightness and much greenery, and it appears lush in the way vegetation in Australia seems to appear. Tomorrow is another day, and today is its own day and this moment is a moment where I am going to power through everything at a merciless pace. Can I get it done? Probably not. Do I know what I’m saying? Probably not. But I keep on going. Gotta keep going. Gotta keep charging to wherever and whatever it is that lies ahead on a pale gray among a bright light.

So I’ve said that and ow I’m saying this. I am thinking of things and I am always thinking of things. I am thinking of where I need to get to and wondering if I can get there in one piece. Yet to find out. Scared of finding out. Finding out anyway.

This is a pointless way of saying that I’m going to be heading off to some place later and there will be some enjoyment, but I don’t want to be driving among all the traffic, which I inevitably will have to do if I want to get to where I want to get to. Could take public transport, but it’ll add a significant amount of time to the journey, so I’m not going to do that. Going to drive and deal with other people.

Right now I’m inside and handling a low amount of light. It’s a bright day outside. Not so in here, but that’s fine. I can look out the window and see the brightness, and because I’m sitting in a dim room, it feels brighter than perhaps it is. But there’s only one way to find out, and that’s through powering through everything before heading on out to wherever the road takes me.

So I’ve written this much and I don’t have much else to say. I mean, I always have things to say, but they are usually empty and without thought. Without presence. Without meaning and intent. Or rather, they always are, but lack what they need to truly be communicative. Or something. I know what I’m saying.

But sitting here, trying to cram into everything everything that I can cram is a process and I’m doing it. I’m getting there. I’m getting through everything and through everything is where I will go in order to get to what I need to, or feel that I need to and I will keep on throwing words together in order to get the gibberish forward, or not.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:20:56

Not great writing. More an exercise in getting things out than anything else.

Written at home.

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