Zelumia's · Tomb

Reading over the archives only serves to astonish me, once again, that certain things were so obvious, so ruminated upon, and yet, eventually denied or converted into something acceptable. Oh well... I'm sick of bullshit, I'm sick of inaction, and I'm sick of toxic people in any capacity interfering with my existence. That's all I have for now, and that's certainly enough.

This is a small town. People should be more careful about the venomous slime they spill everywhere. They're sloppy and selfish. Only a good flood, Bible-style, could clean it up. But they're not even worth that.

~Write, work on old poem scraps, just WRITE

~Start drawing again, maybe some clothes/ DIY designs (while learning to sew is now in the works)

~Collages,use that storehouse of images I've been gathering (maybe one day I'll get the Xyron machine)

~Start taking pix, I can use Mike's digital but I really really want a Polaroid (I feel like that's trendy but they are awesome)

~Yoga (especially for those "I feel 80" days, yuck) and Bar Method (mesomorph potential is quite underdeveloped, yes)

~Imbibe autumn

~For the kitties: new litter box (eww), assemble jungle gym

~Redo my MySpace (ha ha)

~Get ready to move...

etc.

I think the Bog makes me sick. No, not just the abundance of annoying poseurs, but probably their germs. I feel literally sick, not a hangover, but the other kind. This is not the first time this has happened after visiting the "local hipsters' favorite watering hole."

But the nasty humidity doesn't help much either.