Current location:	Manhattan
Current mood:	happy
Current music:	The sounds of NYC streets.

Ecrire.
 I cannot believe that I stopped writing for so long.
In the past couple of days I've written a whole bunch of poetry. And I'm so happy about that.

It's kind of been out of necessity because of my creative writing class, but I do sometimes find myself actually inspired. And right before I go to sleep I keep thinking of these lines and then they have to go somewhere. And then it takes a couple of minutes and then I have a poem. Or half of one. For the most part nothing is forced, unless it's one of those excercises that he makes us do. Sorry but I cannot on command write about Abraham Lincoln being depressed or the sea. 

Scary fact: I had not written anything creative until november except for 1 piece (which doesn't really count as like a story or a poem, it's more like my thoughts with some imagery thrown in) since I got this computer. Which was the summer before my freshman year in college. So 2 years ago....uhm, having written that down that seems like a really long as time. I guess I had a lot bottled up inside me that uhm kinda wanted to go somewhere. 

I took a book of Neruda poems out of the library today and he's such a great poet. Even though I can't read spanish, I can pick out certain words and the english translations are poetic enough to entertain me. 

I've pretty much gotten over the whole making everything flowery and beautiful. Which is why I think I stopped writing in the first place. I was just so overwhelmed with trying to put a sunset into words that I just pretty much gave up. Which is kind of sad when I think about it now. But oh well. To the surprise of pretty much no one, one of my biggest inspirations has been Brandon. Whenever I read something that he writes I go off and try to write something, which again really helps the whole creative writing class thing.

It's nice to try and express myself eloquently without using the phrase "cunting shitbag." Though I guess if I could work that into a poem about the sunrise I would be quite amused.

I wish it were warm out so that I could go to pier and hang out and look at New Jersey. Or the statue of liberty or something. Maybe I'll go to the promenade and look at the skyline.

Having read this again, I can't believe that I am talking about writing. Considering how incoherent I sound. But I stand by what I said, and since it's pretty much 3:30 in the morning, I am allowed to be incoherent.