Not Laughing

December 10, 1998


Traces of white smoke hang heavily in the light of a halfway burned candle. A nuisance clings to the arm of my shirt and chews away at the pages of my life, my art. She destroys everything. Cobwebs can be seen in all four corners but only on occasion does a home owner show face. The same old stuff. It seems like it’s been ages since the last time I put my imagination into good use. The minute my eyes close the mind drifts off into separate directions and the body just lies there motionless. If I could stick to just one idea and actually develop something besides a question mark it would help a lot. Usually I just barely make it to the beginning. The past two weeks have been hell and I don’t even know why. I think I’m finally getting back to my old self now. Life has been having fun with me.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist