Yesterday I wrote 5 or 6 long paragraphs about a topic that I have been thinking a lot about lately. This took quite a bit of thought and research and was going to be the beginning of a blog that would ideally journal some of the things swirling around this big head of mine. I wasn't completely finished with the essay (which was about my own instinctual reactions and relations with laughter and violence and which i will perhaps attempt to write about again some day) when I left to go meet up with some friends. When I returned to my apartment late late late in the night, I discovered that my power, and therefore my computer, were shut off. There had been no storms, so I had no clue why this would be happening. I went outside to look at the power boxes for all of the units in my apartment complex. What I found was somewhat surprising. All of the boxes were closed except for one; apartment 209. Who knows what time, but some time last night somebody came to the power boxes, opened up the one connected to my apartment and flipped the power off. In doing so they really threw off my momentum in getting back to writing. I probably won't even bother retyping what I had written, but it was by far the most thoughtful and intense writing I had done in probably 8 months. I am frustrated.