Didn't You?

"we used to...laugh about...what everyone else was talkin 'bout"

There are still moments when I look outside and wonder where the time has retreated. when i look into my bag and notice the books Im reading are penned by others. So I think about my earlier days…

Can you look at the sky and remember a time when Wednesdays meant spaghetti for lunch? when 2 pm never seemed to come and dinnertime was way too close to snack time. No one ran off to answer a phone, and staying inside meant playing Nintendo. Bike rides were all day events and no one looked at you funny when you pulled out Huck Finn to read under the tree. Can you look at a school bus and remember the smell of the leather? Do you think you could roll your saftey patrol belt the way they taught you? What about the mornings when getting up late meant missing Gilligan's Island at 8am and staying up late meant watching Roundhouse?

AND I RETURN TO REALITY-

The ink that seeps out of my skin lacks sufficient luster to form coherent thoughts and plots on the pages of my journals. blank. BLANK. Nothing comes to mind in the moments when I need inspiration. I've eradicated many distractions from my life- cable. So my ramblings and musings will cease to grace the blogged out pages of my meaningless cyber existience. FEAR NOT! As the wanderlust are apt to excl.. focus, focus, focus! I shall retreat from these momentary minstrels on paper to exhort all energies towards one goal: publication, of what? of anything. I shall hitherfore be a submittal slut, provocating wisdom of the literati kind towards any and all (nay, only the attempts deemed decent by my risk-analysis theory of work) chances for submissions yielding monetary rewards. In short: writing for cash. Next stop, understanding. Final disembarking at: printed word. 
Yet, will my young, naive, blase and self-depreciating fick-tion be deemed worthy enough for your personal entertainment? 
I begin, a knight errant in search of futon with the structural integrity equal to the weight of the three-volume novel that awaits uncovering in the grey matter I have yet to deplete.To end: "the answer my friend is blowing in the wind"