Things picking up a bit. Time to work on another short story and start building this portfolio. Should have focused on this more while I was in blasted Florida. Oh well. No worries. I was in a transitional phase and not sure of what I wanted at the time. Now I am here, where creativity flourishes like water springs in every corner. Time to get to work.

There is a certain fear in letting thoughts flow in such a fashion, as if they somehow lose their value when they slide from the sanctum of my mind and onto paper or physical record. Cannot grow preoccupied with that. These thoughts must constantly be in a motion as lucid as possible.

— Later

Got back from the gym to find that I had gained a blasted four pounds. This throws things off slightly. It will quickly be forgotten as I get back to 152. Feeling pretty well though tonight. Must remember to keep energies devoted to the day, whether I am at work or not, the night will be dedicated then to relaxation and reflection and possible production, for which there is never an inappropriate time.

Am I trying to find some other, hidden form of poetry in my daily logs. Is it some sad side-effect of neglected laziness. These first months in LA will be spent on merely doing nothing but watching movies late at night, looking for some distant and dar-removed message and source of fantastic inspiration? Perhaps. As I watch ‘The Doors’ with the Oliver Stone commentary.

There are two matters of tremendous importance that needs addressing in song or poetry. The death of Osama Bin Laden, or America’s carnivalesque reaction to it; and my encounter with the young stripper named Carmen on Sunset Blvd. There is some correlating poetic significance between the two that I need to address tomorrow.

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