JOURNAL...9/15/26
Hello again, mystery person out there. I decided not to go into work today and instead worked on my next book. The title is Tired and it's about capitalism and whatnot. I have a bad habit of taking a hit off my weed vape pen in the morning and it's something to break, it made me feel pretty weird about going outside. I got a good deal done but it takes me a long time to write stories. It can take me an hour to write one page, I know it's awful but it's just how I work. Fitting an exciting, complete story in 10 pages can be difficult at times but it is far preferable than having longer stories that make a book with 26 volumes way too huge. I picked the number 26 stories for each book just on a whim but it's quite an undertaking. Don't get me wrong, I love it and am committed, just seems wrong to have a different number. 26 stories per book. I plan on writing 5 volumes and then I shall write The Rauk Probability Theorem. My magnus opum. My purpose. I measure time in terms of books and have great plans for so many books. I finally found my destiny. To write and write and write and never stop writing. The book I mentioned will be a four volume story titled: Age of Tragedy, Age of Comedy, Age of Horror, and Time. It was inspired by a phone video game from an incredibly slight detail that sparked an insane thought that I believe in fully. In the depths of mania, I scribbled journals for three months. I couldn't leave the house without holding a tarot deck. I spent seven hours from night to morning picking at my hair. I sent out an insane amounts of pure crazy tweets but I did it without my name. I did send emails to old teachers but I am pretty embarrassed by them. I was actually insane and thought I would become the next jesus by creating my books and a thousand years from now they would become the next "bible". I stepped out my apartment, decided to walk to the woods and die in them. Did not know where to go and just went back home. My husband held me and work together for many many years. But now, 10 years after meeting him, I am different and now believe in the power of my spirit now. I'm excited for more writing! I will post a few more short stories. They are in the style of Hermann Hesse so it is not easily consumed, making me terribly unmarketable. I have been rejected so many times, but that's okay. It might take a decade of writing before being published. I won't stop submitting until my shaking hand of impending death types out the last lines of my last book. Anyways, there are my thoughts today. Happy tidings, stranger