Icelandic gibberish...
Music from the self-titled Sigur Ros CD is filling my bedroom, which is lit only with the red bulb and I'm smoking from this bad-ass slate-blue/smokey-colored glass pipe Christina brought back from Amsterdam for me two summers ago, by far the coolest gift she has given me. I don't smoke much lately, but tonight's xanax wasn't all that affective, possibly due to all the snacking I did, so I had to do something to alter my reality... The pot's actually dangerous tonight, as it usually opens the windows of my mind at times when they should be kept tightly shut. Once the thoughts are flowing, its hard to escape them and no matter how much I'll try to break from doing it once it has started, it just keeps going. One problem leads to another problem. My mind races for the next thing to worry about, anything..and since my neurons are stimulated, the neurosis is creative, free-flowing and too lucid to deal with.....so smoking tonight, while Simba's fate looks more grim than ever, I'm surprised to be holding my composure rather well. It could also be that I'm actually not in touch with the reality of Simba's situation. His spirit was actually good both times I saw him at the hospital today. He's not in any pain, which is priority #1....Enough of that...No one in my phone book is answering, but i'm pretty relaxed now that track #4 is playing...