She calls me like a lost lover from another life. Reaching through the ages, she scratches and gnaws at my dull throbbing mind.
"You will not take me from these arms" I cry. "You will not rob me of my time spent with her."
'Rage, rage against the dying of the light,
Do not go gentle into that goodnight.’
Along with three novels, two pens, my black book, journal, and computer for company.
Many things-such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly-are done worst when we try hardest to do them.
—C. S. Lewis
I’m for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers, or a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
Falling asleep in a room with scattered clothes, reels of film, papers, pens, and half-empty coffee cups. They keep me company in my world of dreams.
Write write write.
Think think think.
Sleep sleep sleep.
I’m going to check out a studio for an hour and a half. And sleep. In said studio. Yes. It is law.
WUT. IS GOING ON. I can hear it through the walls and it’s not a pleasant sound…