This is getting old.
I resolve to get back to blogging and do so for several days and then I disappear again. I suppose it has something to do with the lack of enthusiasm for... well... everything. Is this what they mean by getting old? By getting bored so easily? By not even trying anymore? An entire database of mental notes is slowly rusting away in some obscure region of my brain I can't navigate back to.
Ah yes mental notes! Little ideas you are sooooo sure are bursting with potential that you make an effort each time to mouth "note to self" to virtually catalog these supposed surges of genius. I have buckets and buckets of these buggers. Unsent letters, unfinished short stories, attempts at poetry, lyrics, plots for screenplays. All edited beyond recognition yet none finished. You know what's worse than this lack of follow-through? Indifference. I can't even bring myself to get bothered. Complacence seems second nature already.
I'd rather sleep.

