This raw, stream-of-consciousness entry explores the intimate process of writing as both compulsion and purpose—grappling with time, intention, and the desire to create something meaningful before life slips away. It reflects on the role of art, the nature of time, and the writer’s duty to give form to the ineffable.
There is a show on Henry Danger, and they are talking about rights. Strange to think about the philosophers who pondered
Have been missing not having a freewriting journal. Aside from it possibly being a distraction, I see it as a
Wow, really excited about a lot of things. Things are looking pretty good right about now. It’s times like these
Yes, definitely—all great writers were greatly challenged. First by themselves, then by external forces, until writing became a way of
One minute behind, but skipping the top line—need to timestamp. Rock and roll—like butter, the ink is flowing nicely with