Tag Archives: ink coffee


[uninspiration point]
It’s do or die time. …And I can’t quite do anymore.  So I’m dying.

I did, however, use my image editing skills to fill a hole that appeared on the bottom-right for the image above, a hole produced in rotating it… That took too long.  Much the same went with the No One Can Save You image, though all four corners were filled with that one.  This time I performed some color correction so the image would check out in HSV mode.

Yeah, so I’m a fraud.  I don’t experience things, I preoccupy myself.  I procrastinate.  I embellish nonsense.  I flatter with imitation, and I play video games…and cheat in said video games.

And now my body is falling apart faster than ever.  Without respite, my brain doesn’t work.  My imagination isn’t there, and my dreams are easily forgotten.  Factor in that non-life experience, and how the @$%# can I write?

Writers have words that need to come out.  The words desperate to come out of me now are: “get me the hell out of here.”

Impossibly black coffee
Impossibly black coffee

There’s little left of me to call myself anything anymore.

…So if we were having coffee, I would be a completely different person, because I don’t drink coffee.  The same goes with being a writer; that’s really not me.  If that’s even possible.

Now, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, and I bet you haven’t, I tore myself away from blogging to complete Doom 64 again, start to finish.

Okay, it’s 2 p.m. Sunday here.  Pray that I don’t die in my sleep.  Nah, I’ll live.  More miserable and blind than ever.  Good night.