i haven't known the delight of being manic for months now, because i have been diligent in flushing my crazy blood out with lithium. this is healthy but unfortunate because mania precipitates inspiration. i look back on things i've written while manic and they are sheerly brilliant. nonetheless, i never feel better than when i'm writing. words remind me of the song i'm listening to: they are calming, exciting and build fire underneath the wet wood. i am grateful to my mind on such a regular and consistent basis for my ability to write; be it my name or this entry. the process of putting it on the page is almost an emotion in itself. as i've explained before i almost never edit my work. writing is a release for me not unlike physical excretion or vomiting and i try to let the spit of it get up my nose and be left on the seat if it has to. i try not to be afraid of its smell. i'll let the process hang out in the sewer if it has to.

2004-06-09, 11:10 p.m.
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