I've been working on this short story, and I'm not feeling so good about it. I don't know, I think it'll be alright, I just gotta get going. I figure I'll have a creative enlightenment at about 1:30 on Tuesday. The story is due at 2:00. Whatever works.
I keep getting distracted by the box my new guitar tuner is in. I keep catching it out of the corner of my eye and thinking, hey, that looks like a box of condoms. It really does. I guess I could put it in my guitar case. But that would make too much sense.
I just hung my Springer-Franklin udai up on the bed post. Nothing like the smell of stale cigarettes and grease. No, really. I declared tonight that I enjoy second-hand smoke. What the crap is wrong with me? But it's true. I've inhaled it all my life. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm addicted to it, but I don't really mind it so much. What I do mind is the way someone smells after they've sucked down a cigarette. Or sat in Log Cabin for a while. Anyway, about hanging up my hoodie, it about looked like Wednesday in here earlier. We decided that this room was out of control and we'd clean it up a little before Justin and Ryan got here. (Don't feel special. We really just used y'all as an excuse to put all of our junk up where it needed to be.) But I didn't make my bed, but I guess the least I could do before I crawl in it is remove all the stuff that I wouldn't normally sleep with. *surveys bed to look for more inappropriate objects* Oh, look. There's Michelle's short story, oh, and my comb under my pillow. Sheesh.
Hmm. There's a John Mayer Haiku Contest with first prize being tickets to any show of choice with a meet and greet. Wouldn't that be awesome? Maybe I should submit some. You know, Ann told me that my haikus were the best poetry I wrote in class. But what does she know? If that woman doesn't give me my grade on my revisions this week I think I'll hunt her down and...
Sorry. I guess I need to calm down. Despite that fat cup of cappucino I just had, I think I'm going to try to go to sleep, but I'll probably just end up lying there thinking of John haikus. Catch y'all on the flipside, homes(es).
