It's time to up and die--set sail

Moments ago, I literally rubbed salt in a wound in the process of scrubbing a cutting board. Ergh.

Today, I sat out and wrote in my little cliche leather journal. The buckeye butterflies just hatched, and they were almost covering the biggest tree in the yard. I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been lying on my back. But stupid journal--I use it to write in aimlessly, which happens less and less often these days, so it's a good place to find little shitty things I'd forgotten about writing years ago, snips of this or that. (On the first page: the npc sign up list from Erin.)  Today, I found the following page, written in my self-shorthand. I have forgotten 100% of the context, but judging on the previous entries, I think it was sometime last summer.

Questions:
How often?
Recognition.
What did you think on the mountain?


I was so epic productive today. In nonproductive parts, I wrote some of a bullshit poem. In future productive parts, I go to bed early.