is not quite there yet. remind self to think of another title tomorrow in order to stimulate writing, like a mental stimulant. mental but not psychotic.

idea for a character, a guy who makes combover an art. that's why it's cool to live in the city, the richness of it. you'd see a guy who makes combover an art like every other 2.5 hours.

idea for a story, write an episode of cowboy bebop.

the richness of it, coffee beany smell of beatles in the morning. that was a good one, i think. you're letting your mental editor affect your writing, wirte with inspiration and grandeur, write with style and flows with instant coffee efficiency. editor: your piece is good, you have talent, but there's no story? that sounds nice to me actually. the book definitely wrote with an intent to inspire potential writers.

1:56 AM. the drousy smell is intimidating. it is too daunting a task to partake. too drowsy and out of control of your mental stream, mental stream that threatens to pick up spead and ocercome this instant mind0fuck attemp to mind fuck. what a load of shit. who says habit need be pretty?

Kaoru Iwamoto always looked in the mirror every morning, trying on different faces. He tells himself a joke he read in the bathroom book and smiles to get that happy feeling. He's an artist, the top of his head his canvas, needle thin strands of hair his art.
(can tie in bits of unemployed, the smoking, the bus walk, the girl eye)

you're treating this like a jigsaw puzzle. writing little pieces and then adding on to them. flow obstructing.

Mr. Iwamoto is a tireless employee. Always first in and last to leave. I know, I've been leaving last for the entire eight months I was here until Iwamoto-sa took the lead in January. Iwamoto does good work. Yes he does.

out of steam and mental stream,
eddying flow, encircling the uselss middle
is the tiresome trickle that must never twiddle,
yet again, and again, still again.
the blurr of riffs must be concealed at all costs until such