Current State of Mind

[anachronistic]

Here I am, tinkering in the wastelands where nobody goes. Last night, the moon scattered across a broken liquid mirror. The ingrown toenails hurt, so why not fly? Save it for the dreams. Jimi pulls a mother pose when I look at him, but nobody can figure out why I am frustrated. Not even Jimi.

Nothing is scarier than surreal injuries during awoken moments. Not only that, but they're like mystery novels with the typical romantic twist, but that doesn't matter; it's inconceivable, as are the two dots above an A.

What do Robotussin and alcohol have in common? Cherry vodka. Tell you something? Enough kick to put a shotgun shell through your current rival, yessiree, come and get yours now. Not for me, though. I did, however, catch four fishy cats last night, knives for whiskers.

I hate forgetting to call people back, but people still send me voicemails. Voicemails are almost as horrible as text messages; "Hey, I know you're not there, but here's a nice long message to waste your money!" Makes me want to rip my toenails off and shove them up my ass. Where's the cucumbers when you need them? Oh wait, you're not supposed to take out frustration on the innocent.

Here's a healthy little collage of constellations, some food for thought, a hand to rub yourself with... no wait, nevermind.

I did get a job though. Hired by the wee technophobes from the left of a rosebud. A town with a French name, full of tantos and pokyhontasses. 12.50 an hour isn't quite that bad though, and it will be the same old procedure as with the last patient; cut 'er up, fix 'er up, and then teach her the properties of internal capacity. I can't get the tools I need, with the jackasses that work there, though. Guess I will have to plummet into the sun.

There goes my brother, sneaking out the front door. Coincidentally is the moon the one orifice he has not jammed his penis into, yet. Clear as a redneck wearing hunter orange in New York City.

Too bad the human body doesn't tolerate PSI very well. Otherwise, I'd buy a pump for myself to get rid of the newborn flabbies. Just as bad as the long random hairs sprouting on my shoulders.

This is as sarcastic as Pip. As peaceful as Woodstock, but only if you were there. Which I wasn't. But that's another story for another day.

That girl I dated for three years, you know the one that hid me behind closed doors, wasted my time, and wasn't even good at sexing? She was at my brother's high school graduation. I think she noticed me first, because, from periphs, I noticed her checking me out, during the entire festive. I was standing right in front my brother, on the front lawn of the school, when you're supposed to gather with the seniors and congratulate them, and there she was, let go of her skirt on a windy day to shake his hand, and I saw the whore's fcukworn asscheeks. Guess who laughed? The guilty thief that stole her virginity. I sure wish she wasn't such a horrible person, but sympathy is even more shortly lived than revenge. I haven't been able to sleep lately, as I am becoming more and more obsessed with that college techie major. I really hope she turns out to be perfect for me, she is original, beautiful, and unique. But at the same time, I am beginning to wonder whether or not obsession is good or bad. Perhaps that is something you can clarify.

[boobaa]

Another thread by lilwig.

How long did it take you to write this thing?

[DoesntMatter]

I beg your pardon lilwing?

[Gigabitch]

Long story short: obsessiveness is bad. There's just too much out there to get all wrapped up in the past. Look forward, not back.

And get out of that freakin' town, dude. Let this be the last summer you spend there, ever.

[Vina520]

I admire you , I have to say

[anachronistic]

Another thread by lilwig.

How long did it take you to write this thing?

It was a whim of about 15 minutes, I'd say. No proofreading or editing. It's just freewriting that I wrote.

Long story short: obsessiveness is bad. There's just too much out there to get all wrapped up in the past. Look forward, not back.

And get out of that freakin' town, dude. Let this be the last summer you spend there, ever.

I'm getting obsessed with the new girl, not the old one. It's the preemptive obsessiveness, not the hind-sight obsessiveness... if she turned out to not be great, the obsession would not manifest itself. Thankfully, this will probably be the last time I ever come back to this area, except for visiting my friends, and family<< but once and a grrreeat while. Fortunately, my job is 4 hours away, and I have been given housing, but it is lonely there, and I don't have Internet, hence why I haven't been on in a decade.

[boobaa]

I think its not obsession, its more of a fascination that goes over after a while.

[IndiReloaded]

LW, I love your quote at the footer of your posts.

[bohemiandonut]

LW, I love your quote at the footer of your posts.

I concur.

I also love drinking the broth of crab chowder and sleep, sleep world, let the machines take over, it's okay, we'll be okay we ALWAYS are we ALWAYS are.

[misombra]

i'm so confused right now.

[littlewing]

Sir, it's a great honour to be confused with you

[anachronistic]

... try harder, to not try at all.

[Tone]

Ah, that's cute.

lilwing on his way to be the next whaywardj.