I write in the shower. I write while commuting. I write constantly. Seriously. I even think in the narrative. This usually leads to me writing on unusual items. If I died unexpectantly, my mother would be shocked upon cleaning out my apartment. My scrawl would be all over discarded receipts, DVD instruction books, stock quotes, magazines, the mirrors, a pad of paper on my bedside table, a small notebook tucked away in my purse.
This invariably will come as quite a shock to her. My parents think I have given up writing.
My diary is stuffed with pieces of scrap paper of entries yet to be written or blog posts that have never materialized. Most are unpublishable because I used real names. Here are a few one-liners I've managed to dig up.
And I'm not going to tell you who they are about. What would be the fun in that?
~Thursday, August 04, 2011
Love, Sarah at 2:05 PM|