This one makes more

I just can not shake something. I hope its seasonal. The last week has found me lower and lower, not mobile. I don't really know what to do. Its the bleak sky, or it is the cool weather, that has a way to get inside your marrow. I know I bring it about, or keep it there longer just by the way my forhead scrunches onto itself. I can feel imaginary wires pulling my brown downword. If only I could just face it the right way, I think I could crawl out of it. I need a sunny day. I night a bright light on my face for two hours straight.
It has to be seasonal right? It has to be the combined months of rain and cold, weird snow, catapulted full speed into a cold that made me sporadically cough on cue with stress.
a fucking brain cloud. THAT is exactly what I have. I need to settle down.
I need a bath maybe, a long hot bath.
Or I need a room of puppy noses.

Once in a while, we would take a short walk up Ovid street, across the sideway of Perkins, into the small neighborhood that borders the golf course and the smaller of the two university lakes. That street would take us directly to these lakes. Where ducks walk in their funny squat ways around looking for pieces of bread, so used to people that you can practically walk up to them (a fact I hopelessly try to violate while running. Swooping my arms out and making weird noises, diving right towards them: the patiently wait to the last second and move two steps out of the way and just stare at me like a weirdo). (I pause here, the doors open, and then they close, a light breeze playing upon the flyers and leaflets we keep stacked inside of the their respective towers)

I feel a lot more comfortable with this "blog" than the last few. It seems more natural and in my voice so to speak.

I want to write a sci fi story, while I am able to type in a voice that I consider my own. It is set in the future (of course), lung cancer has been cured so every one is smoking their asses off. There are still the other complications with smoking, such as heart disease, emphezeema, etc... but canver being a huge one, everyone decided "fuck it" and starts smoking. At least enough people that the tobacoo industry, already a monster, soars to new levels, ultimately controlling the world. Thats all I have. No plot, just that.

I want to create a character very much like me (neurotic, part time runner, non smoker, fearful, etc.) and just go from there. We will see.
Lost it...the voice. its gone.