I think of far too much far too quickly at times like these. The worst part is, none of it is really important or relevant to life. It's just thoughts. Trivia and theories and hypothetical situations, each of which could be a blog of it's own and at speeds that don't really even allow much reflection on why I am thinking about whatever at any given time. Sometimes, I think I have these really deep epiphanies and interesting thoughts and it's actually kind of worthwhile. Other times, like now, it's just neverending goofiness and song lyrics stuck on repeat.
I would kill a nun for some sleeping pills right now. Or a drink that isn't more goddamn awful gingerbread Kahlua.
I miss always being drunk right now. I don't when I am, I didn't when I was. But right now, it would feel really nice and help me relax, and make it not matter how lame work is going to be tomorrow, dealing with a bunch of pissy people while even more tired and pissy myself. I want to just get fucking sloshed off of some really nice vodka, and go for a walk, and make an ass of myself. I want to stumble around and ramble to myself and feel all warm and fuzzy and happy with the world. And then, I want to go to sleep.
Unfortunately, gingerbread Kahlua tastes like regular, syrupy Kahlua with bits of gingerbread man asshole ground up in it, and is going to make me feel shitty. Obviously, I'm still going to drink it, and now that it's half done I'm starting to feel better.
Well, there's some good contradiction.
Writing slows everything down and makes me tired. The problem with it is that when I stop, then I start thinking.
I think what started all this was re-reading through some old blog posts because I was horribly bored and doing another director's cut. yay!
I got onto getting real nostalgic, and thinking about Tangerine. Fucking Plan A Alanna, who is possibly the most insane person I've ever been with. I did not stumble on the bulk of posts alluding to her, because I don't know that any have ever existed, but it got me remembering.
Thinking about it right this minute, I've reached a conclusion: Honestly, I think a lot of my nightmares could probably be traced back to that crazy motherfucker. I'm only partially joking about them. Just like a day with Tangerine, lots of my lighter dreams feature a short drive, some mildly disturbing shit I don't care to relive, and then some even more disturbing shit involving a little bit of blood. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking or how I got into that shitty place in the first place, but, with the exception of her last little facebook message to me before she gave up or lost interest or whatever motivated her to go away, my time with her was undeniably the most fucked up series of bizarre experiences in my whole life, and something I have never really told anyone about.
I probably should sometime, but it's too late now and I'd rather just sleep and forget about it.
Don't trust people who can know you in an instant, and don't trust really tiny women.
Right now, I can think of two or three things that would either help me tire out and collapse, or help me get to that point of perfect comfort where you fall asleep even if you don't want to.
This is frustrating. By the time I enact any of these plans, it will be much later than it is now, and I'll be worse off tomorrow.
I feel like I'm beating a dead horse with the sleep thing. I have not been getting much lately, and it's foremost on my mind. Blah. Blah blah blah. This is most unfortunate.
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I wonder why I was thinking about her so much back then. It had to have been a couple years. Wish I would have written about that instead.
ReplyDeleteI should write about KJ sometime. I've written exactly one post about her on here, I think, in like 2009 or 2010. That's an actually legit interesting story about personal growth.