carpul tunnel from excessive masturbation
it's been the joke, but i suppose an explanation would just require too much. regardless i wish my wrist would stop hurting so much, and that i didn't have to use it DAY AFTER DAY.
today's my last day for smoking and meat eating. i've been trying to decide what my final meal should be. think i'll just ask rebeckah for an advance on that kidney. she said i wasn't allowed to sell it, and i wouldn't be. but seriously, ideas are welcome. unless it's steak, or something like that because i never have been big on those things. definately nothing connected to a bone.
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i was thinking yesterday about how strange it is that people are naturally poetic, or artistic. the main example is our dreams. they are interpretations(most often) of our lives, given up in metaphor and vivid imagery. it would be even more bizarre if they were always objective, and most valuable.
I'm not sure where exactly it is that i am at. It appears to be a building of some sort, multifloor. 9 floors with an attic, i believe. that evidence will come out later.
I'm with Ben and there are a lot of people present, the atmosphere seems something like my mental depiction of what a family reunion would be like. there is definately a crowd division that is age biased, with around 30 being the dividing line and a space of at least 5 years under and 10 over. i'm somewhat on the outside of the social niche in the younger people, though i'm not sure why at first.
there's a very attractive girl who seems amused to flirt with me, but it seems like her amusement comes from leading me on like cattle to water, only to find an empty hole instead and get kicked in from behind while i look.
Ben plays drums for everyone's amusement for some reason, and I am close by. It's really good. because i was nodding my head and getting into it i'm told i should play. i decline, but they keep insisting and so i relent. of course it's awful, but i keep trying. the first opportunity they get i'm give a token applause. i get angry and yell at them, demanding what the hell they expected. i'm ignored, which just makes me angrier. i've now been catagorized as nothing more than a shitty drummist, and they refuse to acknowledge me. my peers laugh at me and talk about me while the older ones simply ignore me.
heedless i guess i try to make a pass at that girl. her response seems sincere but suggests something else, she said something about how we can 'do it'(honestly i never refer to sex in this way, so what does this mean?)above her room on the 9th floor where all the sheep and chickens are. (ok, it is just bizarre to keep livestock in the attic). she laughs, kisses me on the cheek and walks away.
don't quite recall what happens next. . .
i'm on my way to leave, but choose to try to get even with the people responsible for making me play and then shunning afterward. i somehow sabotage their equipment, but i don't remember how. i really wish i could. then i let them know what i've done, but in a very misleading manner such that i know my deed won't be discovered until it is too late. the man i speak with becomes irrate, and criticizes me while he searches. my mom joins in the room and joins him in his tearing me down. but it doesn't phase me, and i go about my way somewhat content