Are you enjoying the good sleeping weather? I am. Today is the first day all week that I've felt normal. Yeah, I finally got to second base. That normal - she's a tease.
To hell with that. Normal's a fucking prude. Because what I'm really feeling is her red-headed stepsister - great. I'm bopping around to music, snickering at folks who are fashionably sporting the drowned-dog look (I hear disgruntled is in these days), sighing lovingly at the higher than normal volume of subway sleepers on this morning's commute (did you notice it too?) and happily ordering my tea with soymilk "wet." Hell, I might even start (gasp!!!!) writing again.
But, I have a friend in town from London (coz I be kool like dat) and we'll be exploring all the citaaaaaaay's dirty little crevices over the weekend. There will prolly be no posting until next week, but perhaps you'll get some pictures. (If you're good.) (Very good.)
Ahem. Just for the record. I'm not in a good mood because I got sumpin' sumpin'. I'm in a good mood 'cause I actually SLEPT last night and feel awake and alive for the first time in what feels like eons. Funny how desperately I miss the little things when every ounce of my attention has to be focused on mustering up enough energy (of which I have none) to merely squeak through my day. Mama hates squeaking. She like to rowr, baybeeeee.
So in conclusion, I would like to thank the Powers that Be (henceforth, "PtB") for their nomination. If granted entry into the Land of the Living (henceforth, "LotL"), I promise to uphold its sacred vow to live every day to its fullest. (Okay, don't say you weren't warned.) La la la. Butterflies. Mmmm, warm tea and soymilk. Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy...
Crack! A shotgun blast comes out of nowhere. She grabs her chest, crimson oozing between her finger tips. "Ooooooh... mama!" And then she falls to the ground. Thud. The screen fades to snow. bbbbbrzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Voice of Orson Wells: We apologize for the technical difficulties. And now, without further interruption, we return to the conclusion of your depression.
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