Problem is I shut down Netflix for the summer writing season. No distraction. Too much me time. My brain rebels against the quiet.
Or maybe shit just gets too real in there. All the truths come rolling out.
Reading Cloud Atlas as a past time. Wonder if the library has Octavia Butler on ebook.
Trying to breathe through this night and into the next day. Malaise and intense loneliness. These things are frying my brain from the inside out.
in other news, I made tilapia tacos today with my homemade sofrito.
Trying to run fast enough away from everything is not working. The revolution begins at home.
When I feel insecure, I get vain. So I’m swimming in Tumblr for new hair/clothing/makeup ideas. The weekend is here.