i am in pain. my back hurts from i don't know what. its such a strange spot too. it's off center. maybe its not really my back even. maybe its really my kidneys!! good god!! my kidneys!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!!
so i'm going to ignore the pain and make like that famous tower in italy and l e a n. so as to alleviate said pain, that is.
ok so here's my new favorite drink to drink as the last drink of the evening.. no wait. maybe i don't mean last last per se [per se?].. maybe i mean. ah nuts. nevermind. what was i saying? oh yes. my favorite alcoholic beverage of late is the bloody mary at red fox. yes indeed. complete with salt on the rim, two olives and an onion. mmm mmm. good times, good times.
in other news: drunk people are not so much fun when you are sober or slightly sober or aw nuts i don't know what i mean. maybe i'm just being a tight-lipped, tight-assed, holier-than-thou, seated high up on an ivory horse prude again about the whole ordeal. i don't know but its sometimes irritating to me to have to bear witness to a certain type of drunkenness. an uncomposed, slovenly, slobbery, drunkenness. i.e. the truth in great oozing doses. its really terrible. its really terrible and i'm really terrible for not "going with the flow". because truth be told i would love to be one of those cool types who can drink and drink and keep up a decent conversation.. perhaps be reflective and refined. but as for things/people as they stand its really really terrible to witness all the commotion and then to not really feel of the commotion, just immersed in the commotion. no wait, drowning in the commotion. oh i don't know what i'm saying. perhaps i'm trying too hard to be vague because of something i don't really want to say. perhaps i'm a horrible person because i say and do things that lead people to think that i am one way and then in reality.. i'm nothing like the character i've worked so long and hard to make. and i'm so deep in it now that i can't turn back. great googly moogly. this is worse than being in the witness proteciton program.
what the hell is all that?! i don't know. i should just stick to what i know. make-believe and holding someone long enough to make them think you could go on doing it forever. because that's whats important, right? making someone happy. making just one someone happy? right? i mean that's what all the songs are about and its what all the stories hinge on. the hero (or heroine) saving the day and winning the love interest of said hero (or heroines) choice? aw nuts to that.
i'm so sitting here stalling. i'm supposed to be writing something to be workshopped, seen, read, devoured, dissected, developed.. bleh. i mean its the reason why i haven't called anyone or signed onto messenger to fritter away my thoughtfulness on being a social unsocialite. i mean, i'm supposed to be heavily interested and heavily invested in the "work".. whatever that means. aw nuts! my back, my aching back. i must've pulled something awhile ago. or maybe.. just maybe i have reached full capacity and my body can no longer support the weight that i insist on keeping with me. GAH!! pack-ratted sentimentality. bleh.
i could use a drink. no, no. that's not true. i'm not really a lush, "i just play one on tv". i just pretend to be one from time to time, bar to bar, night to night, group to group and so on and so on. actually, last night at the red fox (when toni n' oscar n' i met up with tina n' rigo n' vic) i was filled with something like envy or something as the waitress/server, jen, was saying that she couldn't believe how like fishes they all were. she said, and i quote, "i couldn't believe it! they kept up every time i came by! i just couldn't believe it!" she flailed her arms around a little for that physical comic flavor bit that everyone of our generation has bought into as 'natural' byplay. we laughed in our varied states of drunken sobriety.. the laughter of course ruled others of us better than the one or two or three of us that were actually still on the right side of lit.
but what is it exactly? what is it inside our minds or our bodies that keeps a good lot of us fixated like fiends? what is that gene or that freakish, invisible mutation squirming around inside us that has us obsessed over people and events in our lives that have long passed away? why can't we just move on! why can't we look ahead, watch where we're going? after all, its dangerous to keep pushing on the gas while we lock our gaze on the scenes we've left behind us. why do we develop nervous tics and emotional problems over things or people that we lose or couldn't have had in the first place? i mean, not even if we left ourselves vulnerable and our gestures warm and inviting. could it be that this affliction has to do with the company we keep, or the juice that we buy, or the politicians we vote for? i'm sure it has something to do with how we spend our time. what we choose to say and how. what colors we dream in and what music we sway to what color eyes we like what touch we crave what words are right
i can't do this anymore. i've got make some serious changes somewhere on the surface of my skin or the number of breaths i take when i'm talking to him.
'til then and maybe again.
9:36 p.m. - 2003-10-19
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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