losing all conception of time.
why im a bad city slicker:
dont touch me. this includes feet, even if you are sitting in front of me. whatever happened to personal bubbles? GONZO!
dont look at me. this includes with your eyes. especially don't look at me hoping to get some form of eye contact back, just so you can quickly look away and feel significantly less isolated in vast urbania. why do you think they invented newspapers, and better yet, portable music devices? to DIVERT this kind of behavior.
okay really. im being hyper-retarded again. but there's really no escaping peeps sometimes. likely doesnt help things any when you lock yourself up in an institution with them all day away from the sunshine and "real" forms of city humanity which you are supposed to remain merely a mass to. how DO people live sanely in places like, oh, i dont know, ASIA?
in my defense, i love people. just not masses, or even large groupings of people for that matter. they smell like.. things.. and...are clearly here to make my psyche go blinkers. par example, i like old couples from the south who are fascinated by smoking devices and wear matching jumpsuits. i can hack that shite. i like kids too. conclusion: its everyone in between these two stages.
je suis un beyatch. i am my mother's daughter. this means social anxiety lies rampant somewhere in my core. im not blaming anyone!
this weekend was a right off of sorts, as in, trangressing my usual serious lack of moderation into some sphere of new extreme radical form of studying, who am i anyways?
i also managed to attribute to andrea's loss of voice, and lock a certain wonderful co-worker up with me dans le bibliotheque all day saturday.
i am almost fully preparedly unprepared.
whew. lucky this came out on here and not on buddy foot toucher.
also, shannon? are you surviving your newly aquired holes? dirt-y. REALLY though, jesus, i hope sleep is gracing you with its drug induced presence and you are healing like the magical fetus you are!
1 comment:
yeah man, it didn't go so good. i slept a butt load in the days and very little at night, full on sudanese refugee + catholic missionary molestation nightmares left me gasping for air. not a good scene. i went back to work today but could not avoid excessive dry heave and had to find my dizzzy way home. alas here i am, all "what the fuck am i just sitting around for?" turns out my stomach aint made of steel as i thought it once was. being in a coma is nice though.
oxycodone is seriously fucking me up.
lurveyy
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