I only started to think i was jesus when the traffic lights started to change for me. but only when i walk.

the early morning has a sense that can only be described as a gentle elegance. Or maybe a quiet purity. But that negates my first sentence, so fuck that noise.

the moisture in your tired eyes
sends light beams shooting dice their size

I like how recently every night of the weekend has been its own little adventure, full measures of success and failure. Which is good, because the weeks are long, and often epic defeats in terms of morale. So buck up, missy, because life is just a limbo of a stripped down sort of symbol and you only make it simple by pumping up the music and lowering the bar. Or is it raising the bar? The representation is a bit befuddled because tbe brain can't help but be muddled in the morning when the sun is missing and you've already missed most of the afternoon.

So get up offa that thang. shake it, you'll feel better. I promise. I heard it in a song.

I'm trying to write myself out of bed. Fairly ineffective. Better luck next time.

But I have things to do! I have to get around to hating the weekend for being mostly over already. For not being around when I needed it. But I suppose I fail to remember forgetting December. Because the weather's gotten warmer but the winter's just begun.

So hold out for some splendor, hold onto hope, keep your eyes peeled for the sun.

I have been pondering what inspires the very essence of the organism that is a human being to arrange its composition so as to navigate all efforts toward another human being.

And.

i think.

i might have an answer.




but it is only another quandry in itself. isn't that always the case dontcha find?



so i've got a mess more problems and this thought bubble has a long way to float, but its going somewhere. i hope it takes me with it.

they're called GRABOIDS! I would have spelled it with uh zee.

What a mood. These sure are confusing times we're all living in, people. Check ya neck, that's all I'm saying.

What to say...what to say? I don't think gin is my favorite drunk. I think I will stick to whiskey and tequila.

Oh, right. Winter break was alright. Uneventful. Unproductive. New year's eve was just a terrible experience for myself. For the most part. And this first week of classes was dreadfully strenuous. And I know it is only going to get exponentially worse as this semester progresses. And it will probably get so bad that I won't be able to focus on getting a job for the summer, so I won't get one. It seems life is dead-set on sustaining this malaise. But you know. whatever.

one thing i will say is that i spread peanut butter on my banana this morning. In a very sensual manner. But fer real folks, I have been doing it for awhile now, and it's a beautiful breakfast. Especially for hangovers. Very sensual hangovers. Ones during which you sense that you FEEL LIKE SHIT.

Dystopian today. That's probably not the right word. But when you look out and all you see is gloom and doom and mud and crud, what else can you see? I can't see the bright snow looking back at me, it's all cluttered with filth. And there's a piece in my eye. So there's no way the mess of fallen precipitation can sub in for the blankness left by the sun's bitter absence. It doesn't quite fulfill certain electromagnetic supply standards. Sometimes she comes out, though. I just wish I could hold on.

I like it when people say "dudn't". Or "doe'n't"?

I had a dream last night. You probably did too. But I remembered mine, which dudn't happen a lot. It was about a fire that burned the shit out of a building i was in. I don't remember if it was my fault. Totes probs.

The shelf at the foot of my bed is supporting several items right now, including:
-jar of creamy peanut butter (oh yeah, it wasn't just a euphemism people)
-butter knife resting gently across the lid of said jar
-mostly empty bottle of flintstone vitamins
-empty glass of water
-face lotion
-empty peel of banana, quickly browning
-small pair of scissors
-iPod(first generation nano with blue earbud headphones)
-mostly empty bottle of gin

And that means it's time to go folks.

Fuck me, right?