it's in no way like a block. blocks are cute wooden things with letters on them. this is a big fat torrent of frozen striated emotions and ideas that (insert famous ice climber name here) wouldn't stick a pickaxe in.
i have these ideas, but for days, hindered and crippled by the emotional torrents in my head and in this hateful life, i've been unable to coherently write more than just journalbabble. i know there is a magic word to transform me into something more - ive yelled it out into the screendoor gray of the sky, hoping for an illuminating bolt of lightning, but so far nada. so. maintenence is the biggest part of life, which they never bothered to tell us in college.
now what?
and the glacier fills the valley...
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