burned out eyes

i don't like my last several posts. obviously, neither did my readership, judging from the dearth of comments. were there too few specifics? did i merely fail to capture people's imagination? (erwin mentioned how surprised he was at how "open" i was on this page; but if i were truly open here, i'd be put in a hospital.) regardless of the reason, i'll endeavor, at least, to create an entry that satisfies my dark heart.

i was chatting with a friend last night. we spoke about doing a project together. perhaps it would be good for me to work on something constructive/creative during my soberer hours. (we'll see if he reminds me of this discussion.)

i've been beating around a screenplay for a good clip of time now. there's a complete draft, it just needs a severe overhaul. the thing is, i can be a really terrific writer and i can be a profoundly appalling writer. each time i go in, it's a battle between the two. and the appalling writer has grown intimidating muscles over the past number of months. i know i can overcome this. (the writer's block; not my life problems, which are fucking insurmountable.) i just need to dig myself out from under this mountain of defecation.

why does everyone despise me so? is it that i remind them of death and utter failure? is it the stench of rot that permeates my horrible thoughts? is it merely because i am the all-american antichrist?

somebody end this walking nightmare...

p.s. my life sucks.