I haven't been writing nearly enough lately.Things are just moving too fast.I am trying to slow down every now and again to make sure that I am enjoying life,instead of just living it.It seems a simple thing (it is)But that just makes it easier to forget to do it.

I figured out what I have been doing wrong for the past few months.I did it while I was in the mountains,and promptly stopped as soon as I got home.It is a ritual that I started when I was eleven years old.Smoking and Writing.I started doing it in the morning when I was 14.I think that it contributes to my sanity.I like to write longhand in jounals in the morning.I like the fact that I will eventually burn them.I burnt them either up to 93 or up to 98.I haven't unpacked them in a long time and I was rather drunk when the burning happened.It was kind of like burning my children,but I was moving again and I had sooooo many heavy boxes of journals that I could no longer lead my nomadic lifestyle with anything resembling ease.I knew I could not just toss them,let them out into the world (too incriminating)So burning...I feel no regret.

Apparently I am in trouble for this act.I was recently told that I was the one remembering everything.Noone can remember shit,but they didn't sweat it,because they knew it was written down somewhere.My ex wife actually took me by the shoulders at my birthday party and shook me over it.I did end up having to straight-arm slap the shit out her later in the evening,So I don't know exactly how much of shit I give about her displeasure.But one of my old roomates (my lovely diva friend Kenny) seemed genuinely distraught over the loss as well. Deep inside I know that as many people are ticked at me,there are many more who are rejoicing in the fact that those particular years of history went up in smoke(for good this time)

Writing and Smoking in the morning helps me to get my perspective straight for the day,before the world gets ahold of me.