i can't write because mostly i can't think. everything drains right out of my head, except for some chronic shames and fixations. don't know if it's a shift, if i might write again, but then i never was much of a writer. i wrote drunk poems mostly, dark little vacuums that sucked up angst and represented it. not much fun. i read memoirs and such and people seem to make cottage industries of themselves that can just keep spinning out new material from old. i'm reading create dangerously, and wish i could do that, bear witness, get hold of a zeitgeist. but i never did get hold of one and i can't see what the ghost of this age looks like, or even feel it clearly, it only feels like ending without ending. like endless war.