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Jan. 4th, 2009
voices in my head: 5 part deux
Jan. 4th, 2009 10:57 pmDear Universe,
This is an attempt at having five random things make a post but it seems to have gone awry. Somehow I'm not surprised that when I try to be zany I end up sounding slightly depraved, or at least really scattered. When I try to be normal I...
I want you to know that I love John Travolta. He has made lots of bad movies, but just enough good ones that I love him and I feel for him. I could go on and on about the Scientology and autism issue, but I'm not going to bother because no matter how brainwashed or enlightened, he's still got a dead kid and that, even if you're a very high level operating thetan, has got to suck at the end of the day. If the media is to be trusted (ha ha ha), his wife is the most mangled at the moment so please bring her kid back, thanks. And Vincent Price. We could really use Vincent Price coming back from the dead right about now.
Maybe if I tap a few more keys my head will stop spinning at least for long enough that I can watch a movie or something. The first person who says that it's that I can't sleep until I post why I'm happy and I know it and I should clap my hands will turn into a newt. I've clapped until my hands were raw and chafed and it sounded just as hollow as snapping my fingers until my bones wore down, I'll have you know.
My eyes hurt from staring at a monitor in bad lighting.
Happy Birthday, Michael Stipe.
I finally ended up with a third December Holiday present today. I was so proud of myself for convincing everyone I know to give me nothing because it seemed so much simpler. (I gave more than I got, but only because there were children involved.)
Thank you for letting me even consider the idea that I could go to see Seabound on the 14th and Repo on the 15th. These combine and give me hope that I should bother living for at least another ten or so days, not that I'd been considering other options at the moment but, you know, we all need to pretend that there are reasons to live.Seabound and Repo are things that I can believe in. Scary dance music and scary horror musicals are all that are left that give me hope, I guess. I know it would be cooler to bother going to the Chip Delany reading in NYC and it doesn't even make a difference that I might not go to any of these things because the truth is that Seabound is cool and Repo is cool (at least hypothetically) and idea of seeing them two days in a row and being caught up enough on all the typing is just fantabulous really.
And Bill Richardson, way to stop hiding behind that beard you corrupt guy. The only thing I liked about you was that your voice sounded like Scatman Crothers every once and a while and that made me think of Hong Kong Fooey. Hong Kong Fooey would be a politician I could have faith in.
My previous bit about how I was happy that my head was empty? My how a few hours can change that...
Ooh, Murders in the Rue Morgue. Perfect.
This is an attempt at having five random things make a post but it seems to have gone awry. Somehow I'm not surprised that when I try to be zany I end up sounding slightly depraved, or at least really scattered. When I try to be normal I...
I want you to know that I love John Travolta. He has made lots of bad movies, but just enough good ones that I love him and I feel for him. I could go on and on about the Scientology and autism issue, but I'm not going to bother because no matter how brainwashed or enlightened, he's still got a dead kid and that, even if you're a very high level operating thetan, has got to suck at the end of the day. If the media is to be trusted (ha ha ha), his wife is the most mangled at the moment so please bring her kid back, thanks. And Vincent Price. We could really use Vincent Price coming back from the dead right about now.
Maybe if I tap a few more keys my head will stop spinning at least for long enough that I can watch a movie or something. The first person who says that it's that I can't sleep until I post why I'm happy and I know it and I should clap my hands will turn into a newt. I've clapped until my hands were raw and chafed and it sounded just as hollow as snapping my fingers until my bones wore down, I'll have you know.
My eyes hurt from staring at a monitor in bad lighting.
Happy Birthday, Michael Stipe.
I finally ended up with a third December Holiday present today. I was so proud of myself for convincing everyone I know to give me nothing because it seemed so much simpler. (I gave more than I got, but only because there were children involved.)
Thank you for letting me even consider the idea that I could go to see Seabound on the 14th and Repo on the 15th. These combine and give me hope that I should bother living for at least another ten or so days, not that I'd been considering other options at the moment but, you know, we all need to pretend that there are reasons to live.Seabound and Repo are things that I can believe in. Scary dance music and scary horror musicals are all that are left that give me hope, I guess. I know it would be cooler to bother going to the Chip Delany reading in NYC and it doesn't even make a difference that I might not go to any of these things because the truth is that Seabound is cool and Repo is cool (at least hypothetically) and idea of seeing them two days in a row and being caught up enough on all the typing is just fantabulous really.
And Bill Richardson, way to stop hiding behind that beard you corrupt guy. The only thing I liked about you was that your voice sounded like Scatman Crothers every once and a while and that made me think of Hong Kong Fooey. Hong Kong Fooey would be a politician I could have faith in.
My previous bit about how I was happy that my head was empty? My how a few hours can change that...
Ooh, Murders in the Rue Morgue. Perfect.