And nothing comes

It’s an odd thing that you can sit in front of a blank screen with 9,000 things rattling around inside your brain, but when you go to put them to electronic paper … nothing. All I can see is a stick figure with words exploding from its skull. There’s no articulate way to put that stream of thoughts down. Because all it is right now is this…

I wish that ass would move out. Where does my money go every month? Holy shit, my dog comes in 3 weeks. I should get off the couch and exercise. My feet are cold. Why does he stomp around? And why does he wear salmon-colored pants? Why do I let all this shit bother me? How many more stray cats are going to sleep on my patio? Did they put up a kitty bulletin somewhere about my patio? Can it stop raining? I miss Patience. I’m woefully unprepared for … everything. I worry too much. I’m angry too much. How is it already 1 p.m. This is why I’m never going to finish my book. I could never write a children’s book, because have you see my Twitter feed? Is it illegal to sign my neighbor up for a subscription to Girls and Corpses? Because LOL.