10.01.01.01.01
One of Those Palendromic Autumn Nights.
I had all these plans to clean my room, but I always end up sitting down, clicking and typing. I'm reading closely, and everything, but almost feel as if it doesn't matter what the fuck I'm looking at. It's all words. Good words, most of the time. I'm drinking Coke, at 1 am. I don't even normally drink Coke in the daytime.Wil Wheaton's Web site offers some pretty entertaining reading. His firsthand trekkie experiences are hilarious. He always writes WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER to refer to Shatner. I love that. Hell, I'd love anything right now, I'm so hopped up on this freaky head cold. I'm going to go under pretty soon.
It hurts to swallow. I don't get sick much. And I don't get very sick when I get sick. The last occassion I was debilitatingly sick occured in early February, in Houston, and that pretty much blew. My nose pretty much blew out all sorts of stuff, and Alison didn't know what to do with me. I was dazed most of the week. I don't write with big words, most of the time. Other people disagree, though. Funny. Only rarely, I think, do I have thoughts so complex that I must express them using fancy vocab. Other people disagree, though. Funny. I guess I'm just a lascivious flibettegibbet.
Moments ago, when I was downstairs shooting a jigger of Nyquil using the University of Bridgeport shotglass that's been in the kitchen cabinet for 12 short epochs, I noticed a large butternut squash sitting on the counter. And It suddenly struck me how obscenely phallic a butternut squash looks. Then it suddenly struck me that squash (or at least squash-like vegetables) have probably been around much longer than the phallus. Who's to say Joe Camel wasn't just trying to boost produce sales? Certainly not me. Ack. Cough. Right.
The drugs are kicking in now, which is good. I'd rather not take drugs to treat sickness, but sometimes sickness just gets boring. I layed in bed for most of the day today, mostly asleep, listening to the wind and looking about at the cold gray arid sky during those periods when I was semi-conscious. Now I can swallow without pain. I felt great last night, but I don't think the shnapps and Sierra Nevada and Camel Turkish Golds helped very much. God, I sure could go for a cucumber right about now.
Did I give this guy permisson to reprint this story? I don't think so. But I don't care so much. He seems to be only in the process of putting things together, so perhaps he's not an inconsiderate ass. Am I a very tall texan who enjoys sharing short stories? Not yet, my friends, not yet.
I'm starting to get loopy now. It's autumn, cold autumn outside. It'll warm up again. Saturday was beautiful: I walked out onto the golf course, listening to Kid A. One year ago, I headphoned this album constantly while mowing greens and surrounds. In the Saturday evening sun, it felt like a mini time warp. My brother told me once that for him, music doesn't transport him to a different place connected with memory of the music... it just transports him into the music. To me, that seems both good and bad.
My lower back always hurts. I don't know. I need better posture and a new mattress. I'm having trouble concentrating, with this cold medicine. I'm listening to the Beach Boys, Pet Sounds.
Today, and it's gone.
Tomorrow it's here.
And gone so fast.Love is here--
In six hours I leave for cooking saftey and health class. I can't wait. I feel disconnected from a lot right now, but sleep will help. I will sleep. I will figure. I will be assasinated by monkeys. I will create something large and beautiful, someday. I will enjoy another cough drop. I took too much Nyquil, dude. Damn.
Sometimes I feel very sad.
Sometimes I feel very sad.
Sometimes I feel very sad.
I guess I just wasn't made for these times.
Today I ate pesto and saw Zoolander. Pretty funny, but probably not worth 8.50. That's good money I could spend on plane tickets or Benadryl. Or Sudafed. I love to drive, but I hate to drive. I miss everyone. I don't know what I have to contibute. I laugh a whole lot. I talked with friends on the phone today. I don't know much about the rest of the world. People just come and go, and we're all spread out across the country. So stupid, that.
Hang on to your ego. I know there's an answer.
Fucking pop songs. I could be the walrus, but I'd still have to bum rides of people. I wish it was Sunday. Sweet prince. Sweet prince. Sweet fall, the smell.
