Sorrowsturbation
Okay, I'll admit it- this blog thing is fun. Nevermind that I write in full view of the world, and nevermind that no one comes to visit my site- I'll dance to myself- it makes me happy. My brain has been bouncing around inside my head again- the thoughtmeats are swollen. I've been trying to figure out my place in this existence, which is like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube. Fuckin' Futile. I think I am in for one of those Long Dark Teatimes of the Soul tonight, as Douglas Adams would say (if he wasn't currently employed as fertilizer)
I've been in a blargh mood for most of today, and I want to escape mi casa and head to Berkeley for some live music, and do what I should be doing, but I'm not sure if I can manage it. I am lacking in those wonderful friends who can stop in, impromptu, and do horrible damage to my foul mood. In this mode I feel like I can't socialize-my eyes are microscoping everything, zooming in too close, and I'm viewing pustules, grease, swollen hair follicles screaming, pores yawning open and closed, and veins... pulsating next to temples... feeding the brain. Glugglugglug. OooOoo spooky! Then I shake my head, to squish the neurosiseses between my brain and skull. Then I usually say, "Hello."
Wow, just as I was about to sink into a gothicy pit of sorrowsturbation, I got my wish. Isabella just called and we are off to the Starry Plough. A few flying whipkicks and a little dance'll get me juiced up, and I'm suddenly reminded of a moment earlier today: As I was travelling home, rather exhausted from my job and rueing the inevitable 5'0 clock Mongolian Clusterfuck that is the Bay Area, I turned on the radio and heard the thumpa-thumpa thump of an old drum kit driving some jumpswing. The entire thing sounded watery, like it was coming from an old can, and it was so pleasant and grooving after a day on the antfarm that I felt my soul shudder a bit and finally exhale...
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." it said, and so I quoth the Iz:
It is good to be young and insane.
™
I've been in a blargh mood for most of today, and I want to escape mi casa and head to Berkeley for some live music, and do what I should be doing, but I'm not sure if I can manage it. I am lacking in those wonderful friends who can stop in, impromptu, and do horrible damage to my foul mood. In this mode I feel like I can't socialize-my eyes are microscoping everything, zooming in too close, and I'm viewing pustules, grease, swollen hair follicles screaming, pores yawning open and closed, and veins... pulsating next to temples... feeding the brain. Glugglugglug. OooOoo spooky! Then I shake my head, to squish the neurosiseses between my brain and skull. Then I usually say, "Hello."
Wow, just as I was about to sink into a gothicy pit of sorrowsturbation, I got my wish. Isabella just called and we are off to the Starry Plough. A few flying whipkicks and a little dance'll get me juiced up, and I'm suddenly reminded of a moment earlier today: As I was travelling home, rather exhausted from my job and rueing the inevitable 5'0 clock Mongolian Clusterfuck that is the Bay Area, I turned on the radio and heard the thumpa-thumpa thump of an old drum kit driving some jumpswing. The entire thing sounded watery, like it was coming from an old can, and it was so pleasant and grooving after a day on the antfarm that I felt my soul shudder a bit and finally exhale...
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." it said, and so I quoth the Iz:
It is good to be young and insane.
™
posted by ThoughtMeats at 6:29 PM
3 Comments:
i think i was quoting michael keaton in the the dream team when i said that but i'm not sure.
i'm sleepy.
Hey Iz- you my only friend
thats ridiculous. if you build it, they will come.
so cheesy. i give myself fantra.
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