BP jaunts and more

So, I just arrived back from BP. I got a pack of nonnies, as well as two packs of nonnies for Neighbor "S". And also a Gatorade for Neighbor "S".

Instead of thinking of some BS, involved, elaborate story about it, I will just it as-is. Went to the station. Bought shit. Back home. The End.

I sort of come to the conclusion that, I can write about nearly anything. Like, I could've made that small excursion into a fucking 800 word diatribe about details, description, and other stuff that no one generally cares about. I mean, some people would take an interest, and some have said as much, but unless I am actually putting up some text that I know is good, that I genuinely like, then any type of mention of the "day-to-day" surprises me. The Rio Oakville story - that was cool. And that I am proud of. Despite anyone reaching out or not reaching out, or anything that happens between now until forever, I am happy with that little story.

Anyway, despite anyone saying anything, or me thinking about anything (that I wrote - as in, the "day-to-day" stuff), I notice that the words do get written. Coming up with something that fits together in a cohesive manner is a thing that is fairly untroublesome and easy, for me.

And also too, I may be of the school of thought that I am a better writer than I assume myself to be.

Of course, anyone can/will say: "well, I can hammer out some stuff like that, TMO. I just don't waste my time doing so."

Yea, true. But they DON'T!

Putting one's standards lower is a way to A) write more, B) write better (because more in-depth word flows become easier, and more "on-tap"), C) is also a way to descend from one's high horse, and just do this (write) shit because they want to.

Anyhow, whatever happens happens

back soon

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