Drivel, and Speaking of, Driving.

A thought. Well, several really. They didn't come in rapid succession, like the firing of many mind-torpedoes as expected, and the concussive booms and hydrostatic force didn't do whatever an extended and failing metaphor does to meaning.

Gave up on that meaning.

But, I did get the thought of journaling once more. Here, please. It's easiest, my handing writing is atrocious. Gives me cramps and that awful frustrating feeling I always associate with difficult tactile functions.

By now I've forgotten what my plans were in particular with this. I suppose it could be something like Ornette Coleman getting beaten up by angry Jazzists defending the art. To compare myself to Mr. Coleman though, obscene.

I am writing however...
Specifically I was writing "however."

Extending amalgamated Poetry, in an effort to feign some sense of categorization could be. Could be the reason. See what follows.