Last night I continued on my story. My laptop is snug in my bed right now waiting for me like a mistress. In the past week I've been reading a lot of books about the process of writing, which boiled down means, putting the damn words on paper, but this one writer suggested it was better than sex. Maybe it could be more fulfilling than sex at certain times, but I still think sex could be mind-blowing if you are with someone who you can give all your intensity too without any hesitation and they recipicate. The funny thing is I'm not sure if I've ever gotten that feeling in my life. So when I ponder about the words of the author it brings many connotations about what I should be feeling, both when I'm writing and making love (I think I'll get to experience that yet again in my life). How intense and passionate should both be, in my own eyes it is equal. Then would my writing become a mistress, it could be construde as such since I'm putting as many emotions and passions into it. And would the woman I'm with feel the same guilty feelings as if she knew I was spending quality time with this mistress called writing? But I wouldn't think she should. Why? Because I have this dream where the two would spurn each other into a deeper spiritual relationship with each other and bring a completeness to both. Sometimes that is what I think I'm missing when I feel like I should be writing more. That extra completeness someone else could give me when I know I shouldn't count on anything from anyone else and do it all myself. But isn't that a lonely life? That you are resigned to the fact that no one will help you, that everyone will fail to be there for you when it counts and that all you have is your own spirit and will to get something done. But that my friends seems to be the way of life for most of the people I know.

When I see a loving couple who have been together for years, fighting through the tears of pain and happiness I am jealous. The one kicked the other one in the ass to get their lives complete and yet the same person craddled them in their arms when life sucked. Life shouldn't be a distractio to loving someone, it should bring two poeple together and if they are meant to be, they should strive to see if they are compatable in being with each other. Otherwise it is just a vicious game that neither person can win and you end up leeching for a glimmer of support when eventually it will run out in the end. I of course have been guilty of doing this as well, because for the longest time I've not only not known what I've wanted, but I gravitate to someone who will acknowledge me. Now I begun to suspect my own heart and feeling to those I do care about and have to take a step back and examine my own self worth and esteem.

Anyways this wasn't what this post was to be about. I piddled around today, I'm supposed to be getting ready for a trip to Milwaukee on Thursday to my least favorite company. Instead I've done other work as well as groped the web. I found this site with some articles about writing and one of the suggestions it made was to write something about a subject that doesn't interest you. This will help expand your way of thinking about the world. So I wrote a poem about horses, not that I hate horses or I'm not interested, but I guess the lifestyle just isn't me. Cowboy School is a poem I wrote something quite different then the usual stuff I do. Not very romantic, sexy or bizarre. Shrug.

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