1.

"I should write that down"


How many times has that particular thought run through your head? For me, all day, e'ryday.


I have always aspired to be one of those intellectuals that could stare at a tree for about three minutes, "hmm" to themselves, and write something so profound that it makes Roosevelt's first inaugural address look like something out of a Perez Hilton column. "These people" are typically found sitting on a train, scribbling away in their leather-bound journals, and almost always biting in to a perfectly rounded apple.


I HATE (LOVE) these people (SO MUCH).


Well, let's just say that I don't think I'm ready for a leather-bound journal. It's not that I don't long to write in one, it's just that I have found that every journal I try to fill ends up collecting dust on my bookshelf. "Happen to you? Happen to me! My fren' too."  I get about five or six pages deep in my writing, second guess what I originally wrote down, life typically happens in the mean time, and my new journal as we once knew it...well... is inevitably hung up to dry. "Only if I begin to write like my aforementioned stereotype will my entries be worthy of my leather-bound journal!,"  I exclaim.


Yeah, ain't that a son of a bitch.


So instead, I've started a bloggity blog blog blog. If you happened to stumble upon this, you have just tapped in to what can only be considered- the bootleg series, a silly variation of rough drafts designed by yours truly. I know what you are thinking, "If they aren't leather-bound worthy, are they worthy of the whole world to see?" Well friend, I didn't tell you to read this, did I?
Bada bing, bada boom. Zippity doo dah day.
Welcome to my first entry.




It sure is a sad day for paperback writers.


love,
e.s.