format
this playlist of posts is now set to shuffle.
i save the entries to my hard drive as i write them, and i post them when i feel it appropriate -- not necessarily in the order they were written.
the result, dear reader, is intended to entertain and confuse you.
get fucked.
i mean, thank you.
martyrdom
The idea of dying to save someone close to me isn't scary.
The idea of not saving them and living with it is.
relapse
I've fallen off the hedonism wagon again.
For months I had enjoyed philosophical sobriety, but now the damned existentialism monkey is on my back again. I'm jonesing bad for something to validate my life.
I know I should be thinking about recovery, but right now my main concern is that I can't find myself a fix.
I need a support group for those addicted to the meaning of life.
i'm not very bright
I only have one avid reader of my entries that I'm aware of, and I just traded the entire basis of their engrossed interest my posts for some porn.
Did you know that you can get porn on the internet -- for free?
Unbelievable.
dreaming
Last night I dreamt that I was visiting a friend in the hospital. She was sitting in her bed wearing the rag doll outfit they give you and waiting to go in for surgery. While she was sitting up and talking, she looked like she'd seen better days. We were sitting and talking and I was trying to calm her as much as I was trying to calm myself.
Somewhere in here the usual dream stuff happens where one or two non sequitur things appear, and then another 2 or 3, until there's a whole freak parade marching through my mind. Stuff such as talking penguins, fire breathing midgets, floating marshmallow cereal pieces, or rainbow colored water dripping from the ceiling. In moderation, these things typically provide a colorful background atmosphere for the events going on, but I guess my subconscious mind feels that things are moving too slow because I'm getting washed away by a flood of these ridiculous characters.
I look up to see that two nurses are leading my friend out the door for her operation. There's no way I can fight through this crowd of freaks, so I grab a Sharpie marker and scribble a note on the palm of my hand. It says "I Do [Big Heart] You". I call out to her and reach out my hand.
She reads the note and suddenly without explanation the parade is gone and its just us and the male nurses, and she runs to me and hugs me. And she looks at me and says "Oh [me], I can't believe it." She kisses me and says "when I get out, we've got some catching up to do" before being led away by the nurses.
I watch her go and then its just me alone in the room feeling like absolute shit because when I said "i love you" i didn't mean "i'm in love with you".
Its the real world now. The parade of freaks have been replaced by retards.
But I'm amazed how I'm still able to remember this dream.
One thing occurs to me that hadn't occured to me when I was dreaming. Why did they send two really big male nurses to lead my friend away? One would have easily sufficed. Plus most nurses I've ever seen in a hospital were women, and the male nurses aren't usually built like football players.
What kind of hospital were we in?
play something else

this week i was in my car during my break, curled up and listening to Modest Mouse.
I looked at my CD player and noticed
this.
I wish I had programmable memories.
I don't even want to program new false memories. I just want to delete all the bad memories and dwell on the happy ones.
Unfortunately for me, I have a robust selection of memories and my mind chooses to dwell on the unhappy ones.
My brain is the jukebox, and my mind is the shittiest DJ ever.
over the legal limit
When you wake up in bed alone with contacts in your eyes and a condom on, the best you can do is hope that the parties involved had a good time, or hope at least they were too drunk to remember otherwise.
what... the... hell..??
I just found a box of Wal-Green's brand tampons under the sink in my bathroom.
I'll repeat:
I just found a box of Wal-Green's brand tampons under the sink in my bathroom.
Why is there a box of Wal-Green's brand tampons under the sink in my bathroom?
I'm so perplexed.
Who.. i mean.. why...
What are they doing there?
And how long have they been there?
Is someone coming back for them?
Or were they left as a convenience for other women who may find themselves in my bathroom in the future?
Please women, please stop fucking with my head. I beg you.
irony is a mother
Friday morning I awoke at 7am to our maintenance guy mowing the lawn in front of my bedroom window.
Saturday morning I awoke around 8am to shouts from the apartment next door, someone singing along to Pat McCurdy, and -- i'm not making this up -- someone yelling "LOUD NOISES!!!!"
This morning at 8am I received a phone call about math.
Oh, I get it. "Haventslept.com"
Very clever, irony. Very clever.
hangover
what could be better than puking at work?
the answer, my friends, is doing it on the sidewalk in front of the office.
oh yeah.
i'm loved
at least that's what the drunk girls tell me.
i have to go now.
posting drunk
Aside from the whole unexpected falling-in-love thing, I guess I'm really wrapped up in the fact that I felt really special for dating this girl because I thought she was just so fucking cool. But as it turned out, I was just pretty circumstantial and I wasn't even good enough to last a whole 3 fucking weeks. That just hurts. I'm sorry, it does.