sicpowered

I'm a little tea pot
short and stout
this is my handle
and this is my other handle...

shit, i'm a sugar bowl

this is, of course, much better live, but as i am nearly dead to the world, the above version will have to do. Apparently the shit hit the fan, socially speakin, down in Ca. once again i reprise my role as the first mutherfuckin rat off of any stinking sinking ship. hat i mixed my metaphors... am i now in the frying pan???

my jeep, precious thing that it is, reminds me of an ever evolving multitude of sickness and despair. brakes, exhaust, electrical, etc, etc... maybe not the wisest decision i've made to date. but far from the host of really really bad ones.meh, nuff said bout that

this is where i'd normally interject some witticism, or anecdote of critical thinking. perhaps a smarmy observation of society or life in the modern world. some times it would be strangely positive, but usually it's an outright criticism of those that surround me on a semi-daily basis. think of me what you will, but tonight, i am without the requisite flavor of mind to do more that string fancy words together that essentially say nothing. Maybe i've a career awaiting me in political discourse.

in reference to the previous: yes, i want a nice plaything, at least, maybe a not nearly serious girlfriend, but i'll be damned if i bother to trust anyone any time soon. even my best friend is raising a critical eye these days. someone asked me for a grocery list of traits that i'm into as if she could run down to the store and slap someone together, complete with sexual willingness and a conveniently located offsite bedroom. I, in a moment of abject and furious politeness, remained silent. I don't have a type, except for perhaps, everyone i've been with has some concert of traits that somehow make me seem like someone better than i see myself. i 'm going to go with the old adage oft ignored; buyer beware.

two nights ago i had a dream about someone holding a rattler within spitting distance of a newborn baby. the holder was wrenching so tight on the snake, but with obvious intent to drip the venom onto the child, that i was at some odds as to which to be more concerned for. eventually the snake split in half midway down to body, and i spent the rest of the dream (loudly) chastising people for their ignorance of the exceptionally deadly nature of a wandering baby rattler. eventually i caught the baby rattler, then woke up feeling somehow strangely vindicated about something.

my room is so dark that when i wake, sometimes i can't tell if my eyes are open. it's also cold enough to kill.

my momentum is now gone, i'm glazing away on a thin sheet of icy opaque. too much fog about me to see the night for what it must be to some people; a beautiful cherished thing, with wisps and gusts of chill dragons breath from the smiling mouth and laughing lips of someone i've yet to meet. no motion to carry me forward tonight, only rest awaits me now.