Today was quiet for me. I felt a bit ill this afternoon. I've been sleeping late for a couple of weeks. I think I'm fighting off a low-grade flu or some such.
I wrote a couple of poems yesterday, a Haiku and a villanelle both of which I posted in louderpoetry. The villanelle was interesting. It has a complex rhyme scheme. I think I have it correctly, but only someone interested in forms would know, I suppose. I found it interestingly complex and will probably play with the form for a while. I've been toying with sonnets but find that my interest in iambic pentameter has flagged. While I'll not give them up, I won't write any more for a while.
I'm stunned that I can't write prose. I've been a dry well on that score for some time. Perhaps there's nothing to do but stop trying for a while. Generally as soon as I give up I find myself perversely able to perform in whatever arena I've just surrendered. I need but declare myself broke to find some money to spend or declare myself flush to incur an immense debt.
I read in someone's journal today his musings about his apparent indestructibility. I felt like writing a lengthy exposition of all my near-death experiences and all the tales of the times I should have died and didn't, but doing so would have felt petty to me somehow. I'm sure that he (rabid_bunnys) is in the same boat as me basically the universe is just not done with him yet. There are more tribulations to be suffered before whatever purpose he serves is fulfilled. I am hoping that my ultimate purpose is to reduce the karmic debt of people who have abused me by winning the lotto and living well in spite of them, but one can only hope.