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An entry written in an attempt to make you forget about the previous two drunken entries, of which I am not terribly proud (although last night I was spelling a lot better than other times). Hey, look at me, I'm sober tonight! There's this new boss guy at work who's decided that I'm terribly interesting, hilarious, smart, etc., basically that I have hidden depths, and he's decided that he's the one who's going to plumb them. It's really annoying. I hate it when people dismiss me as boring or dull, but I think I hate it even more when people think there's more to me than I show them and that they're going to pry me open. For some stupid reason I told this boss guy that I'm a writer. And so he wants to read my writing. I don't let anyone read my writing. I let you read the crap I write here, but that's different, that's writing for an audience. But the other stuff isn't intended for an audience, at least not yet, and there's no way I'm going to let some freaky spazz boss guy read any of it. But I'll let you read something, loves. I must have written it in November after I got back from Australia, but I don't remember writing it, I don't remember it at all, and so I feel pretty detached from it. You can read it and hate it and I won't really care because I don't remember writing it, and I have no idea what I was trying to say. That's a lie. I know what I was trying to say, I just don't remember why I was trying to say it. So here it is!, the debut of a work from my closely guarded library of personal expression. ---------- The rabbit, he hopped across the field, and the cat was scared. The cat ran and tried to hide, but he couldn't find a hiding place. The cat panicked. When you think you need something but you can't find it or can't have it, you think you need it more. The cat panicked, but did he really need to hide? What was he hiding from? The cat himself couldn't answer that, if he'd even been able; all the cat knew was that he was scared and would have liked to have found a hiding place, but there was none available -- which made one all the more desirable. Astro was a shiny black cat who would hide from nothing. Astro was so shiny it would all slide off his back, and he knew it. But Astro, free of worries and free of fear -- was he missing out on something? Was there something more to it all? Astro had no passion, because passion slid off his shiny black back, just like fear did. Astro, pack your bags and run! because your contentment blinds you to the movements around you. And although you may be black and shiny, you are not infallible.
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