2003-11-16 - 12:41 a.m.
I've been thinking, a totally unusual pratice for me I know, and my thoughts have led to this conclusion:
I've gone off. I've peaked, there's nothing in me left to offer that I haven't given already, no new ground, no point.
I'm years off my expiry date and am warning you against consumption.
I might not look inauspicious but I could make you sick...
It's been a wacky old day. Possibly because for 90% of it I was convinced it was sunday (it was saturday). Possibly because I had my monthly melodrama queen fight with my father.
It always goes something like this:
Me: I don't buy what you're telling me, I disagree.
Father: You will agree with me because I am your all-knowing father. And I'm right.
Me: I don't think so, and I'm not going to submit to your alpha male crap either.
Father: You're wrong.
Me: No, YOU'RE wrong.
Father: No, I'M right.
Me: No, you aren't.
This is followed by silence and/or one of us walking away. We spend the rest of the day stomping around like bears, pausing only occasionally to glare at each other, much to the amusement of my mother.
Usually by the next day it's passed like it was just a storm in a teacup. One day I'll snap his patience in half though, I just don't know how I'll do it. But nevermind, I unfortunately never let not knowing what I'm doing get in the way of me screwing things up.
And my linguistics assignment continues to stare at me in it's unfinished state. Like I went swimming in a piranha-infested river and I came out with one attached to my toe, permanently. I suppose thorn in my side would have been the more traditional metaphor, but screw tradition. Plus thorns aren't hungry or vicious in nature. Though I suppose assignments aren't either, no matter how much I think they're after my blood.
It feels like my life now wholly consists of this stupid box. Not you, I mean, the computer. I see the sun outside for a minute when I walk to here, and it snickers at me from the crack between the blinds and the window when it's 6am and I'm trying to sleep.
I am so sick of this screen, I wish it would explode and take me with it. The internet is not that great, there might be a virtual reality but there's no life here.
I got woken this morning by a cramp in my leg. From fast asleep to screaming in just under three seconds. All I've done for the past month is sit, this assignment, that assignment, and so on and so on.
I can't do this anymore. I mean I could sit here for eternity, sure my corpse would end up rotting here for the better part of it, but I could do it.
It's the complete and utter lack of meaning that gets to me, cracks my skull open and lets my brain dribble out, ooze onto the floor.
All the gore I'm imagining just contrasts to the lack of anything here. Nothing moves in this room. Nothing lives in this room.
Me, obviously, included.
I've gone off. I've peaked, there's nothing in me left to offer that I haven't given already, no new ground, no point.
I'm years off my expiry date and am warning you against consumption.
I might not look inauspicious but I could make you sick...
It's been a wacky old day. Possibly because for 90% of it I was convinced it was sunday (it was saturday). Possibly because I had my monthly melodrama queen fight with my father.
It always goes something like this:
Me: I don't buy what you're telling me, I disagree.
Father: You will agree with me because I am your all-knowing father. And I'm right.
Me: I don't think so, and I'm not going to submit to your alpha male crap either.
Father: You're wrong.
Me: No, YOU'RE wrong.
Father: No, I'M right.
Me: No, you aren't.
This is followed by silence and/or one of us walking away. We spend the rest of the day stomping around like bears, pausing only occasionally to glare at each other, much to the amusement of my mother.
Usually by the next day it's passed like it was just a storm in a teacup. One day I'll snap his patience in half though, I just don't know how I'll do it. But nevermind, I unfortunately never let not knowing what I'm doing get in the way of me screwing things up.
And my linguistics assignment continues to stare at me in it's unfinished state. Like I went swimming in a piranha-infested river and I came out with one attached to my toe, permanently. I suppose thorn in my side would have been the more traditional metaphor, but screw tradition. Plus thorns aren't hungry or vicious in nature. Though I suppose assignments aren't either, no matter how much I think they're after my blood.
It feels like my life now wholly consists of this stupid box. Not you, I mean, the computer. I see the sun outside for a minute when I walk to here, and it snickers at me from the crack between the blinds and the window when it's 6am and I'm trying to sleep.
I am so sick of this screen, I wish it would explode and take me with it. The internet is not that great, there might be a virtual reality but there's no life here.
I got woken this morning by a cramp in my leg. From fast asleep to screaming in just under three seconds. All I've done for the past month is sit, this assignment, that assignment, and so on and so on.
I can't do this anymore. I mean I could sit here for eternity, sure my corpse would end up rotting here for the better part of it, but I could do it.
It's the complete and utter lack of meaning that gets to me, cracks my skull open and lets my brain dribble out, ooze onto the floor.
All the gore I'm imagining just contrasts to the lack of anything here. Nothing moves in this room. Nothing lives in this room.
Me, obviously, included.
