Tuesday night adventures: a typical variety of events including watching my goldfish repeatedly ram his head into the bowl and retreate in surprise, devirginizing my eyes to Jimmy Kimmel and Ben Afleck on youtube, and glancing at Tom Hodgkinson's - The Freedom Manifesto - over a watery hot chocolate. "Oh the life of a working girl... used to see her all the time," says the British rock band, Sloan. And when I'm not working or commuting, you won't find me in a state of personal productivity, wellbeing or whimsical delight. Nay! I'm exhausted - bleeding my eyes to bad comedians' homo butt f*cking songs and cratering ass marks into my once-impermeable desk chair! Goooood times, depression... I'm sorry if my night's loathing still sounds like a night at the Ritz Carleton in your world. I assure you, it's a grim and slimy view from my seat.
It is on that very note, the one at the bottom of the rock at the bottom of a murky pond, that I turn this shit over to start something new. After moving thousands of miles and disassociating from reality in past periods of similar states and still not feeling overwhelmingly satisfied, I'll see if creating a blog will suffice. And sound the trumpets! You get to play the spectator! Just don't forget to call 911 in case of an emergency.
I may not be able to explain myself for the words and ideas that transpire; I hope they are honest, comical and slightly endearing. But if that hope is lost, you can turn your cheek knowing that there's something to blame beyond my footloose, reckless, and tramping mind.
From Ultimate Truth to mind, from mind to thought, from thought to keyboard... these are mere tid-bits from a mind-tramp.
