[Not] Much Adu..

I have nothing substantial to say. My great wilderness is too busy to explore these days. Though I search aimlessly for topics to discuss, none are coming to me at this moment. Maybe, while I was upstairs inhaling ever sweet, yet decayed toxins into my bloodstream and ranting away to the thickly covered sky, I had something to say, but not now, not now. I floated down the steps and my memory of those six-sided conversations and observations of silly walks dispersed as quickly as the smoke funnels vacillatingly away from my cigarette. “Nothing to say at all?” I ask. Yet there is only a curbed silence and a bemused vacuous stare which follows the considerably vain and inert question. And so I retired to writing something which is fruitless and immaterial as the feeling which overtook me as I sat down to write. The cliché is to not say anything if it is not worth saying, or saying well. Well, I say, “Fuck you! It’s my life, my words, and I can chose to do with them what I wish.”