the wonders of language

I need to read more classics. Bronte, Austen, Fielding...continue reading what I am currently reading...McCarthy, archeological studies, cosmological theories....my vocabulary has become stilted and stale without a constant battery of new writings bouncing off the walls of my inner gymnasium I call a brain. It's been somewhat of a boring shuffleboard match of late. Refreshingly calm, but the inner creative genius I like to think I harbor is starting to think about slicking up the wooden planks and praying for an accident involving broken hips or having a Tourettes fit just to shake things up a bit...fucking boring ass shuffle board players...

Fuck the modern era, I was born in the wrong century...wanting libraries in my home, candles lighting my words and ink stains on my fingers. Or maybe its just because I just watched a literary period drama piece last night.

I'm going to read now.

Goodnight.