'tic', go to sleep, 'toc', get up, 'tic'...

'...to have to give up all hope of ever being a famous writer! the sorrow i felt over this, as i daydreamed alone, a little apart from the others, made me suffer so much that in order not to feel it any more, my mind of its own accord, by a sort of inhibition in the face of pain, would stop thinking altogether about poems, novels, a poetic future on which my lack of talent forbade me to depend. then, quite apart from all these literary preoccupations and not connected to them in any way, suddenly a roof, a glimmer of sun on stone, the smell of the road would stop me because of a particular pleasure they gave me, and also because they seemed to be concealing, beyond what i could see, something which they were inviting me to come and take and which despite my best efforts i could not manage to discover.'

remembrance of things past

maybe its all coming soon.

ignorable as

i feel like matilda with the burning behind the eyes. staring at pencils trying to make them move.





move D A M M I T . . .. ... . .. ........ .


this is the start, again. lets catch it by surprise when its not looking, begin without meaning to, by accident.


oh for FUCKS sake