so, what is good "too much drinky 
and debauchery" music. we're looking for good recovery time, with an option to add relief of weird background stress, and a general feeling of illness. and that's not in the cool Beastie boy illin i'm talking about.
hmm, let's try Moby... play sounds good.
with this new schedule to hammer myself up against, i decided the best thing to do was stay up all night after work, get REALLY tired, sleep all day today, go to job #1 (6pm) slide over to job #2(11pm) and so completely jack my circadian rhythms that everything would just kind of work itself out. seems like a good plan, right? well, after work, i wandered straight into the bar, skipped eating, and proceeded to thoroughly drink myself silly. hop bars, only to return after a general sense of displeasure. at no point in this implementation of The Plan, did i bother to oh, say... eat. or say, hmm, maybe i should slow down. or, you know, generally take good care of myself. Nope, just a rocking good time, enough beer to loose track of how much, and yeah, i helped em close out the bar. On a Sunday night.
now i feel like
but without the vague look of pleased indifference. sort of like warmed over death, with a side of fresh potatoes, maybe mashed. damn good thing. a little pain is good for perspective.
suffice to say, the appraiser with two perspective buyers pooking about two hours dead in the middle of when i really needed to be not alive, well, that was just no fun at all. on the bright side, my voice was almost sub audible, and that is always cool. i figured, what the hell, let em in, they can't take too long right... i'll just sit at my computer and die slowly for a bit.... they seem to be kinda slow about this... i wonder if they buy the place, how screwed i'm goin to be..... they probably think i can't hear them whispering.... i am dying... hmmm, i'll just rest my head on the desk here, oh, here they are, look alive man... "blah, blah, blah".... "hey, uh are you guys (who are standing in my bedroom discussing paperwork) going to be much longer?" .. uh, nope, we can go upstairs... ok thanks see ya, have a good one, etc etc etc. I was so dipped in dead i couldn't even lay down with out it generally upsetting my desire to live. any change in the angle, speed, yaw, or location of my physicality sort of sent every pain and discomfort nerve in my body into a neeto little exponential curve upwards. then sweet blissful sleep? oh, no. the drunken fetal shakes while clutching to a pillow like a life preserver in 15 foot swells.
at this very moment, i'm recovering... well. OJ, munchin on vitamins, a burrito dripping with chili, big glass of milk. Nice choice of music, i recommend not ending up in this vile state, but if you do, it's good to have a plan. not that i have a plan. but i suppose it would have been a good idea, at the time.
and debauchery" music. we're looking for good recovery time, with an option to add relief of weird background stress, and a general feeling of illness. and that's not in the cool Beastie boy illin i'm talking about.
hmm, let's try Moby... play sounds good.
with this new schedule to hammer myself up against, i decided the best thing to do was stay up all night after work, get REALLY tired, sleep all day today, go to job #1 (6pm) slide over to job #2(11pm) and so completely jack my circadian rhythms that everything would just kind of work itself out. seems like a good plan, right? well, after work, i wandered straight into the bar, skipped eating, and proceeded to thoroughly drink myself silly. hop bars, only to return after a general sense of displeasure. at no point in this implementation of The Plan, did i bother to oh, say... eat. or say, hmm, maybe i should slow down. or, you know, generally take good care of myself. Nope, just a rocking good time, enough beer to loose track of how much, and yeah, i helped em close out the bar. On a Sunday night.
now i feel like
but without the vague look of pleased indifference. sort of like warmed over death, with a side of fresh potatoes, maybe mashed. damn good thing. a little pain is good for perspective.
suffice to say, the appraiser with two perspective buyers pooking about two hours dead in the middle of when i really needed to be not alive, well, that was just no fun at all. on the bright side, my voice was almost sub audible, and that is always cool. i figured, what the hell, let em in, they can't take too long right... i'll just sit at my computer and die slowly for a bit.... they seem to be kinda slow about this... i wonder if they buy the place, how screwed i'm goin to be..... they probably think i can't hear them whispering.... i am dying... hmmm, i'll just rest my head on the desk here, oh, here they are, look alive man... "blah, blah, blah".... "hey, uh are you guys (who are standing in my bedroom discussing paperwork) going to be much longer?" .. uh, nope, we can go upstairs... ok thanks see ya, have a good one, etc etc etc. I was so dipped in dead i couldn't even lay down with out it generally upsetting my desire to live. any change in the angle, speed, yaw, or location of my physicality sort of sent every pain and discomfort nerve in my body into a neeto little exponential curve upwards. then sweet blissful sleep? oh, no. the drunken fetal shakes while clutching to a pillow like a life preserver in 15 foot swells.
at this very moment, i'm recovering... well. OJ, munchin on vitamins, a burrito dripping with chili, big glass of milk. Nice choice of music, i recommend not ending up in this vile state, but if you do, it's good to have a plan. not that i have a plan. but i suppose it would have been a good idea, at the time.