verbal diarrhoea, or the equivalent of...

i used to have diaries. up until university. now i still have diaries but they have remained unwritten in, crisp and clean ever since i bought them. i wonder if they resent me?

the trouble is, it's so much easier writing in a blog online. i'm on the pc most of the time and running my fingers on the keyboard's much easier than picking up a pen. my handwriting's not much to shout about either. again, i hope my crisp, clean diaries do not hate me. i will pick them up again one day. soon. and promise myself that i will not buy anymore until i use at least one of the ones i have in my library.

what's the written equivalent of verbal diarrhoea? i seem to have caught the virus lately.

bla bla bla bla blaaaa...(written of course)

a pal on lomography.com said he doesn't write blogs because there's nothing he's done that would return and haunt him. that's not the reason i write. my notes are reflections on the mundane and the prosaic. an attempt to make light of or poke fun at some of the silly things i do. also of course, to rant and rave when my temper flares. and that's often.

used to be i wrote when i was depressed. you name it: songs, poems, journal entries, etc. you wouldn't want to know about these. heck, i wouldn't want to know about these. i cringe just looking back on some of the stuff i wrote.

ack, gag, gag...

like i said, verbal diarrhoea...

right now there are six guys in the tiny apartment with me, all engrossed in their quest to look for a bunch of masks, sitting around the coffee table. the place looks like a battlefield; d&d books lying all around, miniatures scattered here and there, the stuff that's normally on the coffee table piled in a corner, and more boxes of miniatures standing around. the gamemaster's saying something and everyone's listening intently. one's scratching his head, playing with his hair. the other's mumbling. another's thumbing through his d&d manual. someone's asking questions. boys and their toys.

elsewhere in the apartment, my three cats are asleep. meg on my bed, pixel diagonally across from me on the living room floor, behind the tv cabinet and trixie under the bed. the litter pan has been placed strategically in front of the bedroom door. an earlier incident with trixie and her "present" on my blanket taught us to place the litter pan strategically when the apartment is crowded with guests.

and i am running out of things to say. looks like my verbal diarrhoea is drying up...

bla bla bl...