Episode One:
Thank christ my triple mocha is finally catching up with me. You know your fucked when the excitement of the day involves running across the ravine in the ravine. (Yes...what the heck is the rain concept thing???). Yes, lets just say that Operation Don't Be A Stalker...a miserable failure. Mmmmm, yes. Breaking and entering, not so much qualifies.
As of 1:10 AM
Buffy Listening Tally: 7.
Pages Written: 1 1/4 (single spaced)
Random Thought of the moment: what's the minimum height at which you can drop a bananana and have it squish?
Oh Itunes. Where would I be with out JPop and Disney Soundtracks at 1 am??
As of 1:52 AM
Buffy Listening Tally: 12
Pages Written: 1 1/2...yes that's why I am a liberal...liberal interpretation of time
Random Thought of the moment: "Movin' to the country...gonna eat me a lot of peaches...Peaches come from a can, they were put there by a man, in a factory dowwwn town...I poke my finger down inside, make a little room for an ant to hide...natures candy and my hand on can...or pie"
Lord I'm bad at sleep deprivation.
Millions of peaches...peaches for me...millions of peaches...peaches for free.
As of 2:57 AM
Buffy Listening Tally: 12 (Perhaps I'm finally free of the scourge???)
Pages Written: 2 2/3 EEEEEEEEE
Random Thought: Bob Dylan...what a huge friggin pot head. It really makes you wonder, maybe popular musicians in this day and age just don't do enough soft core drugs. Maybe that's the problem
Why is it that whenever I eat a Twix bar I just think of that commercial where the girl friend is like "Honey, do I look fat in these pants?" and the poor guy, obviously thinking "Oh crap yes your ass looks ginormous" just stuffs both bars into his mouth. Translation: MMMMM...Crunchy crunchy sugar fix.
Why isn't sugar spelled shewger?
Damn the English language.
And damn my conclusion not taking up enough space. Or, well, any at all.
As of 4:09
I'm at that icky point in the evening/morning where my ears hurt from the perpetual headphones and my back hurts from slouching all night and yea generally whiney why the crap do I keep doing this to myself. I coulda wrote this last weekend. Probably woulda been a better idea than getting trashed. Usually. But hey, its 4 in the morning, the perfect excuse not to trust my judgement :-D
Dylan. Trippy. Yes. Bed.
No hope for me and logic. Funny thing, I think everybody here coulda told me that, oh, years ago. Oh well, I'm slow.
3 comments:
Logic . . . i heard about that once . . . isn't that a kind of candy bar? With peanuts? i like peanuts . . .
Sweetheart, nothing's better than getting trashed. (Kidding!)
Sugar isn't spelled shewgar because then it would be pronounced SHOOOO-garr and that doesn't sound like sugar.
Kinda sounds like a hungry pirate.
'cause she is DRAWN to the FIIRE! Some people never learn! (she will never learn) And she WALK though the FIRE!
Damn you, Fulda. Damn you.
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