THE NIGHT IS LONELIER THAN THE OWL

IT JUST OCCURED TO ME THAT IF I KEEP EDITING EACH TIME I POST THERE WILL BE A CONSISTANT 'EDTITING GAP' OF, SAY 24 PAGES. WILL THIS ORDER DISORDER MY MAIN MOTIVE. SHOULD I EDIT MORE ARBITRARILY. SHOULD I EDIT AT ALL? WHO THE FUCK CARES? My trainer (yes, literal ally has a corporeal existence) told me that any "creative" activity can help one lose fat around one's midsection. This is responsible for my first entry in weeks, having decided literal ally was having a deleterious effect on author's mental health plus the fact that my trainer is the only person I know who actually read an entry and said it felt like "a waterfall of words" which is a more beautiful image than the content deserves. More like a waterfall of wood. Or a woodfall of chucks. Speaking of chucks (and this is a ridiculously arcane reference) I started trying to teach myself piano again and found it so ridiculously difficult that I may have to abandon the effort. First I tried scales, then I got a beginner's sightreading book whose melodies were so unmelodious that you couldn't remotely tell whether you got them right or not. Then I went back to some Bach (ok Chuck) baby pieces and was stunned at how much beauty he could deliver even when writing at the level of morons like me. It is the opposite of literal ally. It is all rules, creativity and above all, genius. So it sent me running back to this content which I can control even though it is utterly vapid. It is MY vapidity. It is something I know how to do. I am incapable of writing beautiful pieces for toddlers to play or even read. I feel rejuvenated by the uselessness of my effort. Will this be my last entry or will this spur me on to greater and greater heights of depth? Only time will tell, but only if you can tell time. FUTURE ME: NICE WORK.