The end is very much in sight. I've only got a page left to go, and I really just can't get myself to write it. I have at least four hours until I need to leave for school - plenty of time to finish up, tweak my other paper, apply finalizations, and go. But I'm sitting here writing in my entirely unknown blog, yet again.

Here's a little snatch of poetry (or something) that I wrote the other day in my head and can't stop repeating to myself:

Corncob pipe and a whiskeyfried jacket,
Monkeys in the trees and a lighter in my pocket.

What the hell is that? I seriously love the word "whiskeyfried," though I have no idea what it may mean. I'm loving my tendency to be Joycean about the creation of words lately, inspired, in total, I am sure, by reading his masterwork.

Maybe if I keep writing in this blog, something cool will happen one day. I need to keep writing somewhere, at any rate. "Keep on movin' now...I gotta keep on movin' now." Anyone who names that tune wins a dollar.