30 November 2009

Cleared up in the breadth of fifteen minutes. Nothing you say from here on out will ever make any more sense and it all plays out like the best thing in the world. Time never seemed to be an issue before - always felt as though I had much more of it than everyone else. How the Hell else would I be able to cram so much into a single day?

But now this time is working against me because I'm dealing with someone else's time in addition to my own. My time enters a negative zone. I still think I'm coming out on top.

Who buys their kid a monkey for his fifth birthday? Really? And then shoots it in the head? Come on, now...

Need to get my creative flow up and running again. It's stopped like a bad drain. Need to pull out the Chewbacca-sized lump of hair that's making me unable to process anything requiring an abstract thought.

Ugh. I think a had a birthday party at McDonald's for my fifth birthday. I remember not liking it. Too many kids I didn't even know all that well. I would have rathered had my party in the woods instead of wearing those horrible cardboard crowns.

28 November 2009

Thunderstorms. Lots of them. All writhing around in this cacophony of wails that makes up my head. It's like short disillusioned men running around banging pots and pans along an electric fence: altogether too dangerous, but fun. Way too noisy, but calming. Completely impractical for getting your brain in order, but there's a part of you that believes it's doing just that.

There's a harp on my guitar. There shouldn't be - that's inter-instrument mixing. I'm pretty sure that's illegal in most places. But if it is, how the hell were balalaikas made? Hmm. Definitely something fishy going on here.

I really want to catch those bastards in my ponds. Bet they taste like the water smells, but I still want to catch them. Preferably not by tickling this time. And preferably not because my ring is in one of their gullets.

Why won't this thunderstorm stop? At least create some lightning. Do something other than pound away in my head. It's much worse than...I'm not really sure I'm equipped to become someone's savior. You can't save someone when you have barely begun to save yourself.

It reminds me of Stabbing Westward. But I don't think anyone pities me, nor would I want them to.

'My life has been a nightmare

My soul is fractured to the bone

And if I must be lonely,

I think I'd rather be alone.'

Yes, definitely Stabbing Westward. I knew I liked them for something.

Freaking goats.