Watch Thems Spin (And stuff that makes even less sense)

Hello there you magnificent bastards. Did any of you miss me? I hope you didn’t… for the sake of the fact that that would make you fans, and I’m not exactly a fan of fandom.


Watch thems spin…

On a side note, I don’t know what I was thinking when I cooked up those themey-theme days. Just not my style. If I feel like ranting about video games, I’ll rant about video games. If I feel like talking about nothing at all, I’ll talk about nothing at all. And that is all I’ll say about that.

Bananas. And walnuts, and tomatoes. What do they all have in common? Serotonin and Melatonin. Namely, that they all aid in the making of the Serotonin during the day and Melatonin during the night and using such techniques may actually aid in the prevention of my little internal breakdowns. I don’t know what else to call it when you’re curled up at night whimpering for what feels like no reason at all. It just felt good for three hours or so to be a sniveling little ball of nothing.

It probably started well before, namely on the day I decided that two cups of tea wouldn’t kill me. Which is an understatement on how I felt for the past three days. I want to just stop all together, but have you ever had a caffeine headache? It’s like someone took a crowbar to your head. and then left the sharp part in and kept wiggling it ever time your heart beats. But the alternative is no better. being wired for three days, then feeling frayed for the next four. Its stupid and it’s wrong. That’s not how creative thing are supposed to get done.

Do I even know how creative things are supposed to get done? I think I used to. I used to fill notebook after notebook, from the back so that I could tell story from class notes, with all kinds of fantastic stories. About Jade (my main and most used character. even if I change her name, she’s around in shades). About people I know, people I never knew, people I made up after looking around me. I wanted to be a writer. I am a writer. Whoa. Epiphany point.

It scares and delights me at the same time when I’m like this. Electric is dancing faster than I can even think about it out from my brain, down my spine, down my arms and to my fingers. I’m hardly fast enough to keep up with my own thoughts. And the Firefox spell check is having a field day with it. I don’t care. I’m not supposed to care. I’m supposed to write. :3

I watch my fingers and it all moves in blurs. The universe is channeling my own thoughts, through my own body, and forcing me to pin them down in one single place. My mind isn’t wandering. and the only reason I have for looking away is to stare at my diorama of a dojo while ignoring the dull ache of having to pee. And also it’s a bit muggy. Hell, I might even take a shower to day. Lesser miracles have happened.

Pee. Bath. Store. That seems to be the order of the day. Try to spend an hour outside. That helps with Serotonin as well. I wish that Firefox had macros. all these errors would be all ‘poof’. Then again, macros are odd to look at happen. Reminds me of why Io look at my finger when I type. Everything on the screen feels wrong. I’d rather just type it all out before it escapes me. And most of the time, I can tell when I’ve misspelled something. Memorization of QWERTY is for robots and dweebs. I’m an ‘on the fly’ kinda gal.

A funny thing about being on the fly is trying to think of things on the fly. It’s a thrill when it happens, but it sucks when it doesn’t work. Then you run out of juice and you’re stuck in the dark corner of a warehouse, clutching a wrench to your chest and hoping none of the bullets fly your way. Sorry; Dresden reference. I’m going to be like this until I finish Fool Moon. ^_^; (And then I might do it some more until I get the book after that.)

So… a guy walks into his kitchen for a snack and ends up in another dimension. Or, at least that’s the setup of the comic. Short, pointless, but to the point in-and-of-itself. Funny. I should change the layout to something with a larger width. Might afford me more space to post such awesome hilarity.

Also… I KNEW it. I knew Red Bull had cocaine in it. (At least the Cola version does.) Why else would it be 1: so over priced, and 2: so gosh danged popular in spite of tasting like pee laced with sugar? With cola in it. Energy drinks are dangerous to begin with. No one should have wings (or feel like they do) under the influence of something that’s sold in every corner store and 7-11. It just shouldn’t. That kind of description is usually reserved for substances sold on a street corner in the middle of the night by a guy in a trench coat. Or a black man with a copious amount of gold around his neck. Either or. Sure, it’s Coka-Cola all over again, and it’s only a small amount because of the way the refined the cacao bean, but, honestly, you have to wonder if it’s not just the guarana and the Vodka you mixed in that’s giving you that buzz.

I think I bitched about this last time. There’s too much going into our systems, mentally and physically, that really doesn’t belong there. To paraphrase Terrance McKenna, if we could feel what we were doing to ourselves we wouldn’t do it anymore, would we? (At least, i think it was McKenna… Feel free to correct me.)

Meh, the Intrar-webz is boring to day. District 9 here, pictures of kittehs there. And they say that ALL the surface junk is just 25% of the internet. the rest is hidden away and supposedly all the good stuff is there. Somehow, I’m not convinced. I mean, what are we talking about? Hidden sites that post jobs that actually have jobs that people want? Concealed sites that show you how to make money and don’t want your credit card number in return? I mean, I’m waiting… Show me something magical, bitches.

I do believe I’m out of my initial steam. Crap. Well, nice while it lasted. I don’t even want to rant about random things on the internet anymore. I want to write. I want to write a lot. I don’t even want to go to the store anymore. I am tired of smelling myself right now, so the bath might remain a fixture. Bath. Fixture. Please, someone, get that.

I want to try to skate again. It’s all muggy, and it’ll possibly rain, and I want to fall off a wooden board on four wheels. Ha. Ha. Ha. Desire takes odd shapes and forms, but willingly wanting to toss yourself in traffic and try to keep up… let’s just say it’s not exactly one of my most cherished dreams. I just really don’t give an elephant dump right now.

Lawns. Why the hell is everyone cutting their lawns? At least one lawn mower interrupting my thought or jolting me out of extended sleep sessions everyday for the past week. Why?? Are your little pre-suburb lawns not pretty enough? Is it not enough that you live with constant noise, you have to share it too? Gee. Thanks.

And back to being grumpy. I liked being upbeat, too. Felt kinda nice, in a triumphant kinda way.

Wait, it’s back again. :3 Temporary depression. Or annoyance. Take your pick. I wonder when I’m going to stop writing. I mean, it’s not like I’m being forced to do this. I like this. Sitting here, smelling like the inside of a condom because of the scent-memory that is the inside of a female, listening to techno, and contemplating writing what was supposed to be a comic out in the form of a novel like I have more than a week to do it all. Yay, homelessness. Yay, family. Yay, life.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

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