So, while I was sitting in Chapterhouse, a local coffee joint, this fellow brings in his Boston Terrier. Now, the place has these little strings with mirrors on them in the windows, and they were throwing these little reflections all across the floor. As expected, the little dog was going nuts, chasing the reflections across the floor with utter verve and gusto. Just about everyone witnessing this, me included, were lauging in amusement, cuz frankly... it was fucking adorable. This still got me wondering: what are all of the stupid instinctual things we keep doing with no result? Who's laughing at us?
On a less cerebral level, this place is starting to get like the Last Drop with its music annoyance level, but instead of playing Modern Lovers or Klaus Nomi, it's this horrible sterilized folky stuff that sounds like someone's killing Tracy Chapman in slow motion. It makes it hard to think. At least the other stuff was irritating in general; I can tune that out. This mellow nonsense turned allll the way up to the point that it drowns out the Raveonettes on my headphones completely annihilates my concentration, to say nothing of my hearing.
I've been scratching away at this writer's block that's been a lifelong issue. Getting from Idea to Implementation's been a chore. Sure, I tend toward a process-oriented mindset anyhow, but for how much I adore narrative, I'd like to be able to get through a story without losing time to some "creative" fugue state that leaves me exhausted during almost every creative endeavor that requires conscious delineation. It's a matter of figuring out where my mind keeps getting off track and losing itself in the current. It's like an out-of-body-experience. Either way, it's being worked on.