No bloody heat
When the furnace fan starts to make weird rattling noises, call the bloody repairman right away. Lest you go three days trying to ignore the thumpity chugging and wind up with a low drone that eventually dies out, leaving you and your house to suffer less than 40 degree weather.
NO really! If you try to change the filter (and clean the fan blades)and it still makes that weird noise? It probably means it's still not working properly.
I am now surrounded by various fire breathing floor dragons that growl and chuckle at me. The oldest one was laughing so hard his cage rattled his bones forcing me to pull his plug. My head is cluttered enough already and the constant white whirls, rattles, burning dust odors and lack of heat is making it hurt.
And now the gray beast next my feet seems to have decided to take a nap. And I need to determine if the fuse went, or he's just to cheap to care about my needs.
hrmm. I think I need a beer. Though if I drink whiskey, I won't feel the cold...
After I eat my garlic cheese bread (such comfort foods are needed right now), I'm going down to the pub. And If I'm lucky, Jake will call and I can tell him to pick me up, since 3 hours of beer will probably force me to walk home. And damnit, I'm tired of being cold.
Edit: PS~ It is the bloody fuse... son of a @$%&#!
unsticking from the frozen pole
The words that I grasped and tore at the air for the other night still illude me. But I believe that the "why" of such is coming to light.
Albeit slower than my tired gooey head cares to think about. I can see shadows of the these words/
concepts in the mirror, and until I can either focus the lens or let go of it all together--will my pieces huddle together and conspire to create the message I want share. The problem is...truth, or perhaps honesty. Honesty with my own memories of events. The tickle is there and my subject matter the shadow that holds the feather. But is the shadow me? Or the woman I buried in 2002, with a spade and black dirt?
blank
The brain plays tricks on me. And I refuse in my fatigue to play it's game. But only cuz it hurts. A pale vacant pain that frustrates until I slumber the few short hours I muster.
I SHOULD go to bed...But I want an hour or two to celebrate my promotion. A token one for now, but it means that the days of interacting with 300-800 individual energies are over. Now, instead of interacting with kilowatt after kilowatt, I can watch the arc, looking for potential as I view a whole and slip down another hole.
grasping (or damn it, I'm stuck)
Where the hell have all the words gone? There has got to be a bloody word for pose that doesn't mean peacock or some other active element. Stupid thesaurus.
the saurus...a relic
Nah, I'm just missing something...an element...a passive element.
More water! More water!On a side note,
I'm beginning to think I actually write more, if I leave the house. Perhaps the stimulating elements of a coffee shop or pub and chemically enhanced elves in funny hats engaging me with their art and wit–even their curiosity–encourage my productivity. Or maybe it's the chemicals I injest? Yes, that is part of the equation.
Environment + elves in funny hats + weapons/tools + chemicals = More productivity from the squirrel nibbling on wood bits in the corner.
I digress.
I am now practicing the fine art of finding a "different view" in which to revise my papers, I'm going to run out of viable rooms soon. And I have enough liquid refreshment at home, so going to the pub would be frivilous. Time to start moving furniture me thinks.
My ideal space is growing into a glass dome layered in flat woody or tiled surfaces and zebra fur benches and bouncy blue balance balls. And there will be plush carpet and a fireplace too, damnit. And of course it will be in the center of all conceivable climates and times of day. And a dungeon for when the sun hurts. Got that
X? I need it on the cheap too.
rightOK! Enough with the distractions!
Edited: stupid "the"
monkey NEED banana...
...or why yesterday went all wrong and how I learned to wait.
Pineapple, and melon. The little meaty chunks of overly ripe fruit stuck in my teeth. That was my breakfast. Oh and miniature grapes too. Soggy, flavorless red buttons. It was supposed to be a banana. That was what I needed, a bit of mushy yellow, vitamin rich sweetness for sustenance. Just one. The disappointment of seeing the bright green gift of nature sitting in the brown basket, made me cringe. They seemed to taunt me, daring me to eat them. I could taste the lack of yellow mushiness, the raw, firm texture of the underdeveloped banana. I glared back at them. One wholesome piece of fruit. One piece of fruit that doesn’t change texture on you or get stuck in your teeth. Was that to much to ask for? The yellow comfort eluded me this morning however, and I settled for a latte to get me along to the next fruit seller. And he sold me little meaty chunks of overly ripe fruit that got stuck in my teeth.
Rage too
ahh fuck it.
I need to move some place sunnier, less cloudy.
Rage
RAW DataFunny...I feel bluish.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
