i ask permission to photograph the fen with the mushrooms. they look at me wearily.

fen looks slightly askance, indulging me.

but in my amygdala i'm not thinking about the probable last date i had.

she said i wasn't forthright and i was ashamed.

i imagine the amygdala as a kind of mushroom that throbs.

i'm not happy with how this entry's going.

i mean, what is forthrightness? what comprises it? is it in the way that you walk and talk? is it a posture? a direct scrutiny of the world? anyway she wanted to be a lawyer.

it makes me wanna move, like out of myself. how was she forthright, except in saying i'm not? maybe like crazy it takes a forthright to know one that's not.

so i'm forlorn and unforthright and i had my last date and i'm thinking on my blog the humans are not forthright and they don't read my sorry ass blog.