struck gold; not really-- just my life.

.


'tis new year's eve and my muses have utterly abandoned me, gone to frolic and drink on their own.

pissin' hell.





today;

went out for lunch, ended up not finishing it and buying a very cute lavender knit sweater;
came home, called joann and agonized over article ideas;
wrote 20 lines of a poem, allotted those stanzas to the roman numeral I, then decided that it was unfinished;
went to borders with my father, spent a few hours there and bought:
the past 2 issues of all-story (wes anderson's hotel chevalier and coppola's youth without youth were in them! i always loved that magazine)
& a book called the pillars of the earth by ken follett
& fitzgerald's this side of paradise (which i've already started highlighting);
bought a protein burger from in-n-out on the way home;
ate said burger while standing up;
attempting to write part II of the aforementioned poem.

tonight i get in on at least 45 minutes of practicing my euphonium;
finish the college board's official sat online course (courtesy of lily);
edit this issue's op-ed;
start another painting;
finish that damn poem even if it damn near kills me.

i'm stuck on the middle of the 3rd stanza of part II.

fuck.









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