I’m still reeling from the loss of all my computer files. My creative constipation has been bothering me for a while, but it feels more like torture now that my music software and writings have been deleted. There is fucking nothing left. Even the jump drive with my really, really old stuff on it is lost. I feel like I should be super depressed, but the feeling isn‘t really there. I guess you can get numb to anything after a while, even without copious amounts of mind altering chemicals. My brain has become a hodgepodge collection of movie references no one understands and tasteless and/or sarcastic jokes no one finds funny. My body grows doughy and weak the older I get and my mind floats further and further away like a bottle in the tide.

But enough whining. My creations have always had a disposable quality to them anyway. I’ll live my life like a cat without its whiskers perpetually trapped behind the TV. If given a choice between fiction and truth, choose fiction or you’re gonna be disappointed.