Everything was perfect.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was perfect till you came along.

Word on the street is California's unemployment rate is at 10.1%. Ain't that some shit?

Anyway, I have nothing in particular to write about.

I'm pretty much just sitting at my desk typing for the sake of typing.

It's actually very therapeutic, typing. I like to let my fingers run wild over the keyboard.

I like to listen to the keys click, click, click under my finger tips.

The immediate response of the push of a key to a symbol on the screen is amazing.

And then, after I've typed for a while, I can sit and just stare at words, making sense of it all.

Much of the time it makes no sense at all.

But when it does make sense, I realize my words have potential to be beautiful.

They can be cryptic or mysterious or straight to the point.

They can be everything a beautiful person should be.