NaNoWriMo

Looking at pictures of Italy.

Trying to find the words of my problems, so I could Google them.

‘Intense imagination’ or ‘Never ending imagination’

Or, simply I hate my life so I make another one in my own head. Where even then nothing gets finished. My more polished selves are left on the floor, only to be picked up by my own boredom.

This isn’t really fiction, but I wish it was.

I have to start writing again. Have to. I need to have a talent other than blocking people out, blocking life out like a beach towel over a window.

Some will understand this.

Trying to remember something other than, ringing up nice, old ladies. That one dick customer. Hating my job. The ringing in my ear. The lost of hearing in the left ear. Thought it was a sinus thing, but here I am months later with only one ear bud in.

Wonder if I could get a discount…

‘See sir, I can’t hear in my left ear..’

Probably not.

Wondering why my customers will complain about a blouse, missing a rhinestone. A small tear. An unexplainable stain. But, won’t say the word ‘discount’.

Ehh, it’s awkward. Such as life.

Wanting to be in love. I mean, who doesn’t?

That fact that it’s raining three days in a row.

The crack in the ceiling.

The small puddle of rainwater on the floor.

The fact that I have to re-listen to this podcast. 

I can’t multitask for shit.

November 2, 2011