It's 11:30 a.m. -- do you know where your motivation is?

It's an ongoing battle, this search for motivation, inspiration, the will to even leave my bed. I guess you could say my S.A.D. has picked up for the winter. Somehow it doesn't come as a huge surprise, what with the fact that every winter is a marathon trudge through grim and grey.

Belly all pocked with life's henpecks, feeling balky at the gates of paradise so rushed out and found a down cafe for coffee, cake, and understanding. Capitulating to despair? Hope not. Dream a little dream, I say a little prayer for you, "I just want to be me" (The Smashing Pumpkins are playing beside me, talk about a blast from the past oh yes indeed) and no there is no sunshine but you learn to cope with grim and cloudy Yes there is now five at least more months to go of drizzle-drop holy Hell I hafta homeward
Just for court what fun is that?

I am using homeward as a verb from here on out.

Ross, taking up valuable webspace for no good reason

It's 12:30 a.m. & I'm bored.

"You become a narcotics addict because you do not have strong motivations in any other direction. Junk wins by default." William S. Burroughs

Was that the case for me? Is it really as simple as I-didn't-have-a-strong-enough-urge-to-do-something-else-with-myself?

I guess it's really not even worth pontificating on that particular subject for too long. The important question isn't "Why did I do this to myself" but rather "What else would I rather do with my time?" Sometimes I feel like other people must have an easier time determining what they want to do with their lives, but that's probably not really the case. Figuring out one's direction in life is not the easiest thing.

All of this would be inconsequential if not for the fact that I genuinely want to do something meaningful with my existence.

I have to go back to Montana for court this week. The thought of being back in Missoula fills me with dread, but I'm sure I'll survive it just fine. And so on.

I give thanks.

I give thanks.

I give thanks, I have faith
that the year to come comes on like
honey and bourbon

That is to say that life's day-to-day way
It intoxicates, opens gates, and
Do not need spirits  Cuz I
I can drift smiling 
Sleep of supplication to the yen of faith

Oh and yes that broke the rhythm,
Lord don't castigate, Don't lacerate my
Words my rhymes (seems overly obvious to
Use "time"; Use it to my advantage
       if not in verse, then,

As was saying Oh oh Oh Lord please
Don't suppurate the wound of writer's
Block before my mind's sweet eye
Oh, time, oh Lord my imploration:

Let this year, then, truly be
As sweet as yams in late November.

Amen.

Rosswell
11/25/10