Goddammit! I can’t think of a fuckin thing to write about today.

Hey, today makes just about a month without smoking, and except for the occasional one here and there I’ve done pretty fuckin good. I still miss lighting one up though, especially when I watch TV, or write, or drink, or drive, or take a shit, or surf for porn. So it’s still a work in progress. And here’s a curious thing, I haven’t been drinking much lately either. Since the first of the month, I’ve curtailed all drinking except for on the weekends. And I can’t help but think that by doing so, it’s affected my writing. Cause in the past I’ve done some of my best shit whilst under the influence. Well, if not best, more interesting? Yeah, that’s it, more interesting. The way things work now, instead of thinking some really fucked up shit and pulling bits and pieces from it to write about. I now think really fucked up shit and then ask myself do I really want people to see that shit? See the difference? But then when I look at some of the subject matter I wrote about, say, two years ago. I end up wondering what the fuck was I on back then? Am I making any sense here?