I have a little black book.
It holds the poetry, observations, rants, and drawings I’ve accumulated over the last 3+ years. It is not quite done because I am picky with it’s content.
I have a standard to which I hold “little black book” worthy work.
As a result, I forget a lot of what I’ve written, making the work’s rediscovery hilarious and invigorating. It’s like visiting your younger self. It’s my own little Doctor Who adventure.
(Yes, I am one of those.)
I may not have a TARDIS, but I do own several blue sweaters. I may not travel in time and discover/save new planets, but I do travel inside of myself and discover/save my sanity.
I think that’s pretty close, don’t you?
“Why is it that when I am assembly required,
When I lack make-up and feel like crap, that
More guys look at me?”