Eaux I am so bored with writing about myself. I can't believe how complainingly I am making it through this month. I was going to write that day nineteen is like the Wednesday of November, but then I realized that I have felt that way through all of the -teen days, making the point proportional, but uninteresting. Stan and I are both struggling with our writing tonight; he's been working on a paper for the past couple of days and can't get enough distance from it to discern what it needs at this point, kind of like how I can't see past the fact that I'm blogging now more for the sake of achieving this wacky ambition than for the pleasure of writing.

Of course I could fall to the next obvious option which would be writing an entry for x365, but my bad mood has persisted through today meaning I lack the compassion required in writing about other people. Thus I'm left with writing boringly about my boring thoughts on how boring my writing is. Have you stopped reading yet? (Now Stan is listening to his laptop read his paper aloud to him in its robot voice. Speaking of boring...) It's hard to want to reveal your thoughts when you're feeling mentally stunted. (Now the robot voice is swearing and singing about Santa "Klowss," it's no longer boring, but speaking of mentally stunted...)

You know what I need? I need to get outside for a while, commune with nature and whatnot. That must be why I've got the dog lust going on so bad, it's because I'm lacking the Holy and Unaffected in my life. I'm spending too much time cooped up under the fluorescents with a bunch of civilized types concerned about what to buy next and what other people are thinking about them. I've been in this frame of mind before, but I note that I didn't get there last year and I credit the farm with all its funny animals and the kids I encountered in my work at the Youth Brigade. What's missing from my life is rawness and unselfconsciousness and innocence. These things aren't easy to come by in the big city.

I will show some photos of the kinds of things I mean:

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.