songs

you listen to the songs that tell you about trembling, and finding something you can stand on, but when it happens to you, you don't recognize it.

that day that you fantasize about, when you meet that one person who's gone through all the same shit as you, is a long ways away. so toughen up.

expanded desk

Hooray, this is the 60th post on my blog. Woooaaaahhhhhhhhhh! DJ in my car!

I exhale my breath and make a noise like a cosmic ascension. People running, people on bikes, people walking, all go by my window. Two cats too.

I start listening to music, the sun begins to set, and I want a beer. Night time by a pool or something. Suuuuummmmeerrrrrr.


you can do most everything you want to do. it just doesn't happen that quickly sometimes.

anyway, i always thought i was pretty good at entertaining myself.

May bottles sing sing sing and weep goes the belly

Another month, another playlist. I named this month's "May-be" due to a lack of anything creative or interesting to inspire me (yeah, sounds more like a personal problem to me too).

I feel sincerely sympathetic towards my friends when they tell me "I couldn't sleep last night." Although I've experienced the same thing, I have, more times than not, been able to at least get an hour or two in. A restless night only makes me wonder what thought or physical distress could have kept them awake? When I can't sleep, it's worry that keeps me awake. You too might toss and turn, and feel that wirey sensation of your chest crumpling up like a piece of paper. Awake and awake as you fear or worry or contemplate and desire. You hope. Don't trust too much though.

When I was little, and couldn't go to sleep, I'd wake my Dad up. Sometimes he'd tell me to go back to bed, but other times he'd get up and we'd eat milk and cookies together and talk about whatever was relevant in my life at that point (goosebumps, something I had found on the ground that day, a model airplane). I think it really depended on what kind of day he had. I ate some of those same cookies with a glass of milk tonight. It was a comfort food. I love films, and I find cinematography very interesting. This is something that I sometimes blame my depression on. There's really no point for me to be depressed when I'm grocery shopping by myself at twelve a.m.. However, I found myself confronted with the difficult decision of which type of milk to buy. My reflection in the glass door, florescent lights, and ambient noise of the conversations around me made me think "This is depressing." They say that people who are prone to depression should watch television sit coms because they somehow or another relate to the characters, or if you will, actively participate in the show. This has sidetracked a bit, but I'm not worried about it.

I came home the other night and flopped into my bed to find, to my disgust, a paranormal stench emitting from somewhere. I walked around my room, and would get a whiff every so and then, but couldn't quite locate it (turns out Blue peed on a pile of clothes, but I didn't find this out until oh, say a few hours ago). So I dragged my covers to the futon in the main room, and slept there for the night. Then I did it again. First of all, our futon is a wreck. A huge, tattered chew toy of Blue's. It's uncomfortable, and it seemed that the paranormal stench persisted to haunt me? (nope, more old, hidden, piss). Now I'm in my room, at a desk, and things are back to normal, and I like it a lot more this way.

It's official, 99% of television depresses me. I've always said it's like pissing in my own eyes. Okay, so I haven't "always said that." But that's what I think of it!

Why did the organic farmer buy a book about ghosts? Because he wanted to learn about supernatural things.

HEEE

Ever wonder what happened to vampire Corey Feldman? Well he became a Romulan. You can see him in the new Star Trek film (which I thought was great).

Well as you can see, I'm tapering off. Rather than continue to drag you by the ankles through my very boring life, I will simply say:

The twenty second might
welcome him
and a fair companion he will bring
And I will tell them both all
about the time
I drank
eleven beers
To answer your question

what to do

I awoke the other day, feeling like I had fallen asleep with a mouthful of pennies, and having swallowed them, one by one, had a taste of zinc on my tongue, and a heavy stomach which was slowly being poisoned.

I have no idea in what direction my life is headed. Somehow, it's both comforting and incredibly scary.

It's that feeling I get when I want to ask "What are you up to?"

And then I think, "nah. I don't need to do that."