Friday, July 27, 2007

The one thing I hate the most about my job is the work. Obvious, isn't it? I shouldn't have to work. I can't write when I work. I work all day, get home tired. I just can't write, and if I can't write, I can't enjoy myself. So, I feel like crap and I start to hate myself and my life. Just because of that job that forces me to work.

I need to spend days walking around. That's the only way I know to write. Walk around, take notes, sit down, write and walk some more. If you guys felt like giving me money, so that I'd quit my job and travel, and walk, and write, and be happy, I'd take the money. I'm serious. I would take it, without any shame or guilt.

If anyone out there who happens to like me some and happens to be a millionaire feels like investing a little money on me, I'd appreciate it. I'd work my ass off trying to make him/her proud. I'm a work of art, but I need to work on myself, not on my job. I don't need that much money. I can travel cheap.

Please.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Frank says blah

I think it will soon be a year this blog exists. I feel like I've done a lot during that year. I got my ass moving, at least. I travelled. I worked. I did manage to have some fun, for a change. Actually, the less you stay in front of a computer, the more you have to write in a blog. That seems really obvious like that, but when you're a stubborn motherfucker (in the most endearing sense), that's just... well, blah.

I started this a year ago with my mind kinda blank, with in mind only one word, that isn't even a word: blah. Frank says blah. Today, a year later, what would Frank say?

Frank says I'm bored.
Frank says who farted?
Frank says nothing rather than say something stupid (we all know that's not going to happen).
Frank says blah, still.

Blah means just that. What is that? Who knows?

Saturday, July 14, 2007

I'm afraid of everything, except confronting my fears.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Il est des gens qui n’ont besoin que d’un instant égaré s’ouvre un univers de beauté. Le genre humain en est un de souffrances ignorées. Les hommes vivent à l’intérieur de murs de bétons afin de trouver leur existence contrastante, du fait belle.