acid rain lollypops and giant banana eating mollusk- WHAT?!
Sometimes I feel like I'm living my life how I would have to if the Nazi's had won the war. Also with no translators, and in the Wizard of Oz movie when dorthy wakes up from her dream and says "and you were there! and you and you, and you!" all the faces are a little too familar to me and instead of Aunt Em there's a giant spitting and hissing lobster. And That's Just Weird.
The concentration train of thought I'm supposed to have to be able to write and function seems to always leave the station just when I show up holding my suitcases. Everyone I know needs more time from me or some time to speak of and I once again, am the one who comes up short-changed. So far it is looking like I might get some time to myself saturday night or sunday afternoon this week and that is it. God Damnit. How am I supposed to get my shit together when I am always around some person or another and some other person or another is always needing to know when I will be done with something else or when I will be home or when I can hang out or why I haven't created things to do yet. And when will my mother stop bothering me about scholarships. Yes. I know I need money. What part of emotionally incapable of writing bullshit papers about how I have so much figured out about my life and have a plan people need to support with money.... is hard to fucking understand. Do I look like I'm good at lying right now?
The frustrated bone in my feeling-gut-body is pretty ticklish these days. Being angry seems more productive than being in despair but I would really like to try and get past both of those barb-wire fenses. It is fun to use idomatic language. I think I'll keep going with that. My brain keeps clicking and the coggs get all jammed up cause it is getting too crowded in there with people and painful lights and candy wrappers. Also maybe wild turkey? Ugh. I feel like I'm living the life of a doomed man in every since. Like Judas Iscariot. Not quiet the devil, but just next to his heart. Like the little bible kept in your inside pocket that stops bullets in westerns. Because jesus motherfucking saves. Thats why I wear cowboy boots. What are your reasons?
Well its another full day with no time to hook myself up to some life support. If only I could write. Its been so long since I could just sit down and write pages and pages for hours and hours. I end up feeling like i'm hooked up to an oxigen machine with a leak in the hose. Who even cares if its a life worth saving (ie the kind of writing I end up putting out) but it deserves as much of a chance as anyone else. Why am i stuck with faulty equitment?
The concentration train of thought I'm supposed to have to be able to write and function seems to always leave the station just when I show up holding my suitcases. Everyone I know needs more time from me or some time to speak of and I once again, am the one who comes up short-changed. So far it is looking like I might get some time to myself saturday night or sunday afternoon this week and that is it. God Damnit. How am I supposed to get my shit together when I am always around some person or another and some other person or another is always needing to know when I will be done with something else or when I will be home or when I can hang out or why I haven't created things to do yet. And when will my mother stop bothering me about scholarships. Yes. I know I need money. What part of emotionally incapable of writing bullshit papers about how I have so much figured out about my life and have a plan people need to support with money.... is hard to fucking understand. Do I look like I'm good at lying right now?
The frustrated bone in my feeling-gut-body is pretty ticklish these days. Being angry seems more productive than being in despair but I would really like to try and get past both of those barb-wire fenses. It is fun to use idomatic language. I think I'll keep going with that. My brain keeps clicking and the coggs get all jammed up cause it is getting too crowded in there with people and painful lights and candy wrappers. Also maybe wild turkey? Ugh. I feel like I'm living the life of a doomed man in every since. Like Judas Iscariot. Not quiet the devil, but just next to his heart. Like the little bible kept in your inside pocket that stops bullets in westerns. Because jesus motherfucking saves. Thats why I wear cowboy boots. What are your reasons?
Well its another full day with no time to hook myself up to some life support. If only I could write. Its been so long since I could just sit down and write pages and pages for hours and hours. I end up feeling like i'm hooked up to an oxigen machine with a leak in the hose. Who even cares if its a life worth saving (ie the kind of writing I end up putting out) but it deserves as much of a chance as anyone else. Why am i stuck with faulty equitment?