It’s been four days
since I left my apartment
and my biggest concern
has been my dwindling toilet paper roll.
There are several benefits
to this economy:
1. No threat of toilet plugging
2. Eating less, so I am less full of shit
3. Writing more, to take advantage of the situation
I feel like Thoreau.
Still, I am gearing-up for writing season
This is going to be a wild summer.
Writing the great American novel is every poet’s dream.
My problem is that I don’t like society very much,
so it’s hard to calibrate their conversations and attitudes.
I prefer solitude,
and the library
and my ambition is to be a writer, which doesn’t leave much time for living.
My setting is a suburban backdrop
I could write about professionals who have conversations about retirement
and who eventually reach the promised land at the local country club.
It would be depressing
although, I could do something like drop an atomic bomb nearby
to liven up the situation—there is nothing like the fear of death to force people to live better
But I’ll probably just work myself up into an intellectual mania,
watch a few documentaries on how to write a murder mystery,
and then plan the most intricate convoluted plots
that cause most of my readers to stop reading
the most intelligent
who have nothing else to do.
Yes—this summer is going to be lots of fun.
I’m going to play golf while reading philosophy
and I’ll listen to the conversations on the course
I’ll eat Thai Food
while losing weight.
My body will be hard
and I’ll feel just like James Bond.
Possibly, that girl who has been ignoring me
Then I’ll really get down to business
but until then
I’m in heaven
and enjoying myself.