after much hustle and bustle i finally got my ass to buy a new journal. it is a long overdue purchase, complete with excuses of not wanting to settle for spiralbound notebooks anymore, refusal to drive to giant robot to get one of those spiffy little ones, only being able to find wide-ruled when i prefer college-ruled--when it comes down to it, i haven't been as motivated to write as i usually am. this depletion is poly-rooted, a lot of it having to do with me just overworking myself in promoting all aspects of my art other than creating it. what's the definition of ironic?

in the end, i got what i've always wanted...black leatherbound...shiny pages along the edges like bibles (i'm sooooOo geeking out right now). i think it's about due time to get my grown man on in journaling, yadididig? i'm a channel writer...there was a point when i could write anything i was assigned to or that i assigned myself on the spot...lately, i've been fighting my words a bit more...hitting the delete key and ultimately dissatisfied with what i've produced, but, alas, it is what it is. with each new notebook, my writing changes, adapts to the type of paper that's being written on and the type of ink that's being used. so who knows...with this shiny-slightly-bourgie journal, i might be switching from milk chocolate to dark chocolate, if you know what i mean.

actually, i don't even know what i mean.