Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

I havent been able to write anything (poetry prose) for a long time, well at least creative stuff, and it bothers me. I mean tonight I should be writing this paper for my east asian history class, but for some reason I decided tomorrow would be perfect and now I have a hard time forcing myself to do it tonight. (I did do all my readings for classes tomorrow almost 60 pages) So I though, "ah I will go to bed earlier, that way I can work on it all tomorrow night and i will have enough energy" but when I go to bed, my mind races and thinks of the future like being a teacher and the first day lesson plan that always comes to my head for a sociology class. then i wonder if i will have troubles with administrations or if i will even be able to get a job.
Then I thought, eh you should write something.... and i have a list of topics in front of me... things i have been wanting to write about... but i never seem to find the inspiration and the follow up at the same time... and thus I sit with a list of topics that is getting old... so here they are for you, and im starting to not even remember what the idea was for them so maybe some of them are gone forever

* liquid dreams morocco
* treading water
* fever breaking
* the wall (as in, for immigration purposes)
* American illusions and images
* body issues

In the car on the way home from home (odd how that works out)
I was listening to a lot of hip hop and as i often do i was coming up with verses in my head...
I had entire poems/lyrics thought out about a number of topics and when i got home I couldnt write any of them down because i was tired and couldnt remember.

Melissa was saying today how she didnt get enough sleep and felt really dumb all day. me and alicia nodded, like "yeah we know, we do that all the time."
i think i must be the most unhealthy...
anyway... i was hoping that i would start being able to write again soon...
its one thing to be sucking it up in your creative life and be kicking ass in your schhol life, but im not doing well in either all of a sudden.


this is the only thing i have written even resembling anything creative lately


while watching the coke pour on to the grenadine, I thought about how strange and exciting it was to watch the dark mix with the very red syrup and wondered if thats why bush is so eager to make these oil blood concoctions everyday.

and thats some crap...