a car alarm is wailing like a prostitute being sodomized by 18 LAPD pigs on mescaline directly outside my window and i'm trying to get some much needed sleep. my phone has already rung 3 times this morning and my caller ID claims it's no less than 2 strippers ... maybe more. at this point i can no longer care.
i absolutely MUST stop this -- this terrible, self destructive behavior.
upon returning home, my roommate (who was already awake after a long night of sleep) exclaimed something to the effect of 'my god -- you look like shit.' and i did. still do. i feel like i'm trying to reincarnate the same twisted fantasy i attempted at 20, only without the speed. it's pure willpower now and i certainly don't remember it being this difficult. clearly, the effect of the speed was exceptional.
i'm not going to bother going into detail as to the events of last night/this morning. there've been considerably worse evenings out, and there's really nothing impressive to speak of. i'm certainly not proud of this behavior in any way other than that i've survived it for a week without any sort of tragic happenstance; though hours at the roulette table have convinced me it won't hit red every time and it's very, very likely that the moment i shove my stack of dollar chips to the outside and pray to god for that 2 to 1 hit; it'll drop on double zero and the fiend of a dealer will smirk as he drags my money away, fully aware of the rotten circumstance that's caused me to curse his existence.
and then what? i leave and feel like an asshole because i was too stupid to cash out when i was ahead. all clever posturing aside, everyone's the same when in THEIR world -- the same pig with a blade in his gut, betting no one will jerk it from his flesh and suck out the life that began as a trickle and ended as a terrible diluge.
and my mind has surrendered.
i absolutely MUST stop this -- this terrible, self destructive behavior.
upon returning home, my roommate (who was already awake after a long night of sleep) exclaimed something to the effect of 'my god -- you look like shit.' and i did. still do. i feel like i'm trying to reincarnate the same twisted fantasy i attempted at 20, only without the speed. it's pure willpower now and i certainly don't remember it being this difficult. clearly, the effect of the speed was exceptional.
i'm not going to bother going into detail as to the events of last night/this morning. there've been considerably worse evenings out, and there's really nothing impressive to speak of. i'm certainly not proud of this behavior in any way other than that i've survived it for a week without any sort of tragic happenstance; though hours at the roulette table have convinced me it won't hit red every time and it's very, very likely that the moment i shove my stack of dollar chips to the outside and pray to god for that 2 to 1 hit; it'll drop on double zero and the fiend of a dealer will smirk as he drags my money away, fully aware of the rotten circumstance that's caused me to curse his existence.
and then what? i leave and feel like an asshole because i was too stupid to cash out when i was ahead. all clever posturing aside, everyone's the same when in THEIR world -- the same pig with a blade in his gut, betting no one will jerk it from his flesh and suck out the life that began as a trickle and ended as a terrible diluge.
and my mind has surrendered.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
so amazing!
~muah
nah -- just a geek with too much free time.