stream of consciousness - well, d'ya wanna know what i'm thinking or not? well, do ya??

it used to be so easy, this writing thing, tiny scraps of phrases and a nice turn and twist of words would appear and suddenly i'd have a story that i didn't even know i knew... where did it go? i want so much to be good at this. or to be good at something. maybe what i've been seeing, what i've been saying, that i'm lucky, that i'm so lucky, is not untrue, but true for everyone, so a kind of useless stupid tautology that is so evident it needs no explanation, no declaration, everyone is lucky, in their own little ways, if only they'd care to see it that way, because i certainly don't feel very lucky right now, and yet the prof doesn't turn up once again and i'm saved, for another week, or is it doomed for another week of wasted time, time, bloody time, i really need to stop quoting songs, quoting in general, people don't understand my sense of humour, or if they do then they don't find it funny, which is a pity because i really do... is this my virginia woolf inpersonation? no i would never even try.. i decided this week maybe i am not really made for real work, that's why it's so hard, but i like working so much, i like the sweat and stress and making money except i don't like working because i have to i like working because i want to and i thought so much this week that maybe i am made to be or should be a writer after all but then that means i am still going in the wrong direction, how can so many changes still result in me going the WRONG way??? i always thought i was pretty good with directions, what a shame to find out that i'm not. i really miss driving but maybe it's a good thing i'm stuck here and have no car because in my current state i think i'd drive to geelong, just because, but petrol is expensive and i'm not even in melbourne at the moment so it'd cost a bomb, actually, i'm not even in Oz so actually it wouldn't even be possible unless i decided to drive under the sea along with the little mermaids and their crabby friends, except even if i wanted to i don't think the car would work and i'd run out of petrol and there wouldn't be any petrol stations under the sea, kinda like here in Lyon actually, hardly any petrol stations, where on earth do people fill up??? actually, that's not true i keep discovering petrol stations on a daily basis, they're hidden like little secret bars that only the exclusive word of mouth advertisement would actually let you in on, and i stumble across them because i get lost because i have nothing i'd rather do than walk and get lost and be cold and try and forget or blanken my mind and empty the emptyness because i really don't understand even with all this explanation and all these words i don't understand, i don't understand and i don't want it to be like this and i hate the fact that i feel so bloody impotent and useless and stupid and hopelessly alone... i know i'm not alone. i know that. i know that it is not my whole life, but here i sometimes feel like i have no life because my life is back in Melbourne... i should've could've would've didn't and thus cannot complain, cannot cannot cannot