drafts overdue

what if, writing would make everything make sense, or maybe the best solution of all is to shut the fuck up. there's no need to know everything. yes?

note to self : keep potentially upsetting toughts to self, especially when high

time and tide : strange mysterious conveyor of thoughts and [ideas]? give me a break

i need to work better with probabil..no possibilities, let's make friends with the odds

i can only think of one thing right now, written in two thousand nine, or eight, or so

it's been in my drafts for so long that the whats and wheres and whys and hows and what fucks does not matter any longer

what comes to mind in this context is how i once thought that, even if i would jump in the river naked to catch fish, i probably won't get one. alive. i'll get crap.