a very articulate friend of mine wrote this today, and I felt inspired to repost it here in SG for my other friends to enjoy his quirky banter:
"I woke this morning and read the electronic post, and began beating my head against my writing desk while repeatedly screaming out, "what the fuck!" as though it were some sort of Buddhist mantra mumbled some hideous bloodless beast from Mars; a depraved mutant with a penchant for Eastern religion and high grade hallucinogens. Twisted logics and hellish realities twisted into left eye socket, as though the flat screen monitor and melted and exploded thereafter, hurling a hot piece of Korean made plastic into the ocular orbit with the same gusto as a Peter North money shot.
I recoiled. The reality of such insanity was too much for me; I staggered away the desk, half in and out of a pair of Dockers. My tie caught in the hinges of the bedroom door as I fell through it, attempting to reach the bathroom, my toothbrush, and a modicum of sanity. Strangling there for a moment, I realized that my truck was low on gas and that somehow I needed to find the time to tank up on the way to work. Work. I remembered I needed to call Corey about conferences. Perhaps the lack of oxygen was forcing greater efficiency in the cognitive sense.
I freed myself with a simply application of mechanics and managed a moment of sanity. Tooth brushes make sense. Toms of Maine toothpaste tastes like a hybrid, genespliced, concoction of a molotov cocktail and that cancer causing gum full of saccarine my parents gave me as a child. Hell, it was sugar free, right?
Moving among traffic like a Cruise missile carrying a tactical nuclear weapon (that would be me...I am full on tac nuke these days), that is to say, a great white shark complete with fin and a stereo that could make Chuck D deaf, I suddenly had the urge for this song as it began playing. A strange atavistic lust; defying description like a blowjob while laying on the operating table and all those machines with funny lights, and pumps, and tubing, and making little noises that go "BING!"
The White Rabbit. I began shouting "WTF?" over and over again as I stepped on the gas. The big Vortec V-8 snarled like a whipped beast in response and the white shark surged ahead, like that great sea creature its named for as it senses the struggles of a wounded seal..."
===================================================================
also, yesterday work sucked, but afterwards I finally got off my ass and did some shit. went to target and ralphs and dropped a bunch of money, but I now have kitchen items and food. microwave, skillet, pots and pans, utensils, forks/knives/spoons, plates, cups, bowls, etc... etc... etc... and had my first home cooked meal in my apartment. now given, it was a white trash feast of grilled cheese sammiches and chef boyardee spaghetti, but regardless, it was a first and tastey. that and I've already drank a pitcher of koolaid.
was supposed to get internet turned on today, but when I got home I wasn't connected, and then I pulled the cover plate off the wall to find out that the cable connector was attached to the wire by electrical tape. so they'll be out saturday to set it up, and hopefully it fuckin works and they don't have to run a new line, cause I don't wanna know what that costs, especially knowing that I could do it if I knew where the damn central box was.
also saturday is manson/slayer. gotta remember to print out my tickets. I hope peoples are still going, if anyone is.
"I woke this morning and read the electronic post, and began beating my head against my writing desk while repeatedly screaming out, "what the fuck!" as though it were some sort of Buddhist mantra mumbled some hideous bloodless beast from Mars; a depraved mutant with a penchant for Eastern religion and high grade hallucinogens. Twisted logics and hellish realities twisted into left eye socket, as though the flat screen monitor and melted and exploded thereafter, hurling a hot piece of Korean made plastic into the ocular orbit with the same gusto as a Peter North money shot.
I recoiled. The reality of such insanity was too much for me; I staggered away the desk, half in and out of a pair of Dockers. My tie caught in the hinges of the bedroom door as I fell through it, attempting to reach the bathroom, my toothbrush, and a modicum of sanity. Strangling there for a moment, I realized that my truck was low on gas and that somehow I needed to find the time to tank up on the way to work. Work. I remembered I needed to call Corey about conferences. Perhaps the lack of oxygen was forcing greater efficiency in the cognitive sense.
I freed myself with a simply application of mechanics and managed a moment of sanity. Tooth brushes make sense. Toms of Maine toothpaste tastes like a hybrid, genespliced, concoction of a molotov cocktail and that cancer causing gum full of saccarine my parents gave me as a child. Hell, it was sugar free, right?
Moving among traffic like a Cruise missile carrying a tactical nuclear weapon (that would be me...I am full on tac nuke these days), that is to say, a great white shark complete with fin and a stereo that could make Chuck D deaf, I suddenly had the urge for this song as it began playing. A strange atavistic lust; defying description like a blowjob while laying on the operating table and all those machines with funny lights, and pumps, and tubing, and making little noises that go "BING!"
The White Rabbit. I began shouting "WTF?" over and over again as I stepped on the gas. The big Vortec V-8 snarled like a whipped beast in response and the white shark surged ahead, like that great sea creature its named for as it senses the struggles of a wounded seal..."
===================================================================
also, yesterday work sucked, but afterwards I finally got off my ass and did some shit. went to target and ralphs and dropped a bunch of money, but I now have kitchen items and food. microwave, skillet, pots and pans, utensils, forks/knives/spoons, plates, cups, bowls, etc... etc... etc... and had my first home cooked meal in my apartment. now given, it was a white trash feast of grilled cheese sammiches and chef boyardee spaghetti, but regardless, it was a first and tastey. that and I've already drank a pitcher of koolaid.
was supposed to get internet turned on today, but when I got home I wasn't connected, and then I pulled the cover plate off the wall to find out that the cable connector was attached to the wire by electrical tape. so they'll be out saturday to set it up, and hopefully it fuckin works and they don't have to run a new line, cause I don't wanna know what that costs, especially knowing that I could do it if I knew where the damn central box was.
also saturday is manson/slayer. gotta remember to print out my tickets. I hope peoples are still going, if anyone is.
...sheep are too obvious.