tie-red

I'm silly tired today. Perhaps vaguely connected to the fact that I kept waking up from 5-7 am every few minutes this morning. No amount of coffee can bring me back to normalcy, I fear. Tiiiired.

I'm also tired of people telling you they're going to take you out to lunch, drinks, Monte Carlo etc. when intoxicated but with the veneer of sincerity all the same. Then, you show up to collect (like a good lil opportunist should) and in their blank stare, you become simultaneously over-sober, cheap and/or delusional.

a good whiney rant

Admittedly...I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

But that's a given.

Somewhere along the line, I surrendered my ability to capitalize. No more! 'I' will be capitalized from here on out, as well as any/all proper nouns. I strayed from my destiny.

As I have been doing for months now. Staring blankly into my computer, I feel amazed I can even put together a complete sentence. Looking at my resume never felt so...chilling. Last time it was time to do this, I suppose I was less existentially shipwrecked than I am at the moment.

I found myself thinking today that my excessive potheadedness is not limited to association with compulsive behavior - I wondered if I was trying to stun myself out of consciously realizing how quickly my life is passing me by and how I am changing without even consenting to these changes! And by changing, I mean growing older. There are many people with whom I have not spoken in what seems to be ages, but when asked to summarize what I have done with myself and my time, I realize...there is very little I can say.

'Oh, you know - drinking and smoking to the point of stupidity and hanging out with my friends all the time,' I would blithely reply if I felt more blithe about the whole thing. I am not strictly dissatisfied with this, my relatively pointless lifestyle. I am admittedly obsessed with my friends. To say nothing of drinking and smoking. But it seems far more pleasurable to be with my people, my self-made family, my tribe than to be by myself attempting to do...anything.

I feel like I could be staring into the face of the last wave of brilliant and unrealized ideas I could ever have...my brain could go drier than the Sahara at any time - when the ideas and characters fade, surely the quips are not far behind.

So, I must act. And I have collaborators, supporters, resources and I'm even coming up on some free time what with the eventuality of my quitting my job finally kicking in and all. I guess I'm just scared as fucking hell. I don't know what I'm doing. But I do not what I'm not doing. Which is enough. Knowing the I will never be able to do enough for myself is what puts me in this waking coma....like achieving true justice, it is impossible. So rather than make the attempt, I apparently just wish to slide into the warm bathwater of nothingness.

I'm whining. And you would never believe that I'm pretty happy righty now, but I actually am.

I just wanted to whisper into the ears of my fears for a moment. That's what you're here for, old bloggybabes - innit?

thoughts: connected and disconnected

Which came first?
The birds shat on my car because I always try to run them over when driving?
Or I always try to run over the birds while driving because they shat on my car?
Not that I think anything with a brain smaller than a peanut is realistically culpable for its actions.
But I still fucking hate nearly all birds.
And by hate, I mean fear.

South Congress Ave?
It will make you feel like a skank.
If you let it.
And by you, I do mean me.
Today, I put it all together. Two of my 'conquests' work within one block of each other on Congress.
In that same one block radius? The man sitting on top of the mountain that is my 'to fuck' list.
And that wasn't even the icing on today's lustcake...
Coming back from the walk that forced me to solve the mystery of what can only be described as a Bermuda Triangle o'Sleaze ....I see the hottest piece of manflesh I have laid eyes on in the parking garage of my office. I don't know if it was him, or the promise of crawfish...but I started to drool like a dawg.
Or maybe it was when he said he was a sailor.

In more cogent news...I am perhaps over-loving the life alone. So, I don't really have 'furniture' - so the fuck what? I do have bamboozy cushions and a lil table to match. And a bed. And a desk! Who needs anything else? Chairs, couches? What are these things? And where are the bougies who lounge upon them?!

Drinking a few beers toward the last hours of the day? I feel a spring in my step that can only be spurred by beery delusion.

And I have decided this weekend shall be even more glorious than the last.