Time to retire, perhaps?

My recent hobby is a rather vile one, and I will be the first to openly admit it- I have been reading gossip columns/blogs/whatever those things are called. It is like a sick addiction, and I don't know how to stop. Ever since I visited Los Angeles, it seems as though I am hungry, starving to even catch a glimpse of people in the surrounding of the city that evoked rather curious feelings inside of me. I don't think I really care much for those people, their lives, their pathetic attempts at being famous for a week, I just love the setting of these photos. I look at the sun and the trees and it is almost like the feeling that I had while I was in Los Angeles is reborn inside of me. Of course, it was a rather short trip, and I am sure that I would go absolutely crazy and most certainly dislike everything and everybody in Los Angeles, finding myself like a prisoner...because being in captivity, even a "perfect" one, as you may guess, is not....fun.

What happened to my writing? It seems as though everything has gone downhill in my creativity department. I use simple, predictable words...and if this computer was not blessed with a little function called "spell check" I would seem almost illiterate, I assume. Maybe just for the time being, perhaps it shall all get...better.

During art class, I went through a pile of old magazines...some were rather boring (American Science, and as deep and up-to-challenge as I may pretend to be, I will be honest and come right out and say- no I am not intrigued by these gadgets and scientific ideas...I like shiny, purposeless things, and emotional weight...) but then I came across a 1969 Seventeen magazine. Since I was looking to get into feminist collages (heavily influenced by Linder Sterling as always) this magazine fit perfectly. It gave me lots of material, while it also shocked me at how the society has not changed one single bit. My uneducated assumptions that 40 years ago, a person like myself might have had more room to breathe were completely wrong. The only thing a girl was geared towards was a finishing school, to either become a secretary, a nurse, and of course, a mother.

Maybe I will post my collages. Some people said that they looked rather disturbing- just the way I intended them to be.

And there goes another piece of my writing that really...does not sound great or good....but who reads this thing anyway...of course, my greatest client,-me.

Yours truly
Tennessee Williams