I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. 1:30 in the morning, fuck a donkey.
What is rolling around in my head so much that I can't sleep? Bits and pieces from work. Intrusions of angst and loneliness. Blobules of anger diffused through a thin veil of ennui.
If I can't sleep, I might as well write. Get some shit down so I can get it out of my head.
I wanna be pretty. I wanna be admired for my looks. I want to be put up on a pedestal, shrines made to me, people worshiping me as a false idol.
But I also want depth and substance, so when you get past the pretty veneer, you find the rich and hearty heartwood beneath, and realize that I am really all that.
Right now I'm like the old worn comfy couch that when you sit on it, you go "ohhhh" and sink back in, and wonder as to its luxury, but when you look at it you realize that you'd be embarrassed to have it in your living room when company came over. Maybe some reupholstery, or maybe just get a new couch and donate this old one to Cinema Rex.
Or see me in the thrift store window as you walk by, briefly thinking of what a bargain I would be if only I wasn't so worn and shoddy.
Don't poop on a pizza and tell me it's sausage.
Homoerotic asphyxiation.
A kinder, gentler natron.
Dangly bits.
Necrosis.
Almost but not quite horny.
I think I was bit by a spider. Perhaps it was a radioactive spider, and I now have secret mutant powers.
(thud.)
Nope.
Fuck the cereal, I just want the dried strawberries.
A bunch of folks are down in Austin for the Butt-Numb-A-Thon. I hope it's good. My niece is now married and on her honeymoon in the Bahamas. I hope that's good too. I didn't go to either.
I'm blocked. I can't seem to let the monsters in my head out to play, there is too much grumpiness. I'm tight, not able to relax. I'd go read a book, but nothing interests me right now. Same with movies. Maybe I'll just go try to sleep again and see what happens.
Morning is gonna suck.
What is rolling around in my head so much that I can't sleep? Bits and pieces from work. Intrusions of angst and loneliness. Blobules of anger diffused through a thin veil of ennui.
If I can't sleep, I might as well write. Get some shit down so I can get it out of my head.
I wanna be pretty. I wanna be admired for my looks. I want to be put up on a pedestal, shrines made to me, people worshiping me as a false idol.
But I also want depth and substance, so when you get past the pretty veneer, you find the rich and hearty heartwood beneath, and realize that I am really all that.
Right now I'm like the old worn comfy couch that when you sit on it, you go "ohhhh" and sink back in, and wonder as to its luxury, but when you look at it you realize that you'd be embarrassed to have it in your living room when company came over. Maybe some reupholstery, or maybe just get a new couch and donate this old one to Cinema Rex.
Or see me in the thrift store window as you walk by, briefly thinking of what a bargain I would be if only I wasn't so worn and shoddy.
Don't poop on a pizza and tell me it's sausage.
Homoerotic asphyxiation.
A kinder, gentler natron.
Dangly bits.
Necrosis.
Almost but not quite horny.
I think I was bit by a spider. Perhaps it was a radioactive spider, and I now have secret mutant powers.
(thud.)
Nope.
Fuck the cereal, I just want the dried strawberries.
A bunch of folks are down in Austin for the Butt-Numb-A-Thon. I hope it's good. My niece is now married and on her honeymoon in the Bahamas. I hope that's good too. I didn't go to either.
I'm blocked. I can't seem to let the monsters in my head out to play, there is too much grumpiness. I'm tight, not able to relax. I'd go read a book, but nothing interests me right now. Same with movies. Maybe I'll just go try to sleep again and see what happens.
Morning is gonna suck.
- Current Mood:
cranky - Current Music:Andy Warhol -- Discordant Beeps
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magicmarmot- Tom Ramcigam
- Magic Marmot Studios
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