Still that same day...

Ach, I'm such a sad person, for someone who is so happy. Does that need translation? I'm cheery, and if I were looking into the window at myself, I'd condescendingly giggle at the ridiculous smile on my face. Which is there for no reason.

Then I'd wonder how I was hovering outside my window at work. Two stories up. I guess it's better than hoovering that up high. The walls don't have carpet on them outside. Strangely enough, there is carpet on the walls on the inside. Which makes hoovering the walls oh-so-much easier. And relavent.

Can one really giggle at one's own smile? Is that some kind of logical paradox, a conundrum wrapped in a paradox sooo tightly it creates a massive gravitational field that warps space-times-space, which creates a wormhole, that causes a loophole, which is fed through a eye-hole, of a storm, so that the whole world collapses in on itself and destroys the universe?

Or does it just give one hours of unadulterated innocent pleasure in front of the mirror?

Vote? I say 3-to-1 it's the other way. That's right, the other way.

The next day

I didn't even read that... thing I wrote before. Suffice to say, I'm sure it was sh*t, and I'm not going to read it again. Out of sight, out of sight.

The last post I read, by someone else by the way, now that, THAT was about me. So glad someone else can nail me better than me.

I feel soooooo much like a car wreck right now. I was going to stop posting, but bugger that. It's coffee-cig-B&S-dancing-my-office time. And THAT'S all about me.

Or also the janitor if he walks in on me.

Which band, I now wonder....

Life is like a simile, and yet it's actually a metaphor.

I came up with that quote. And I'm drawn to it because I was thinking of metaphors.

I don't get some people. Ok, sometimes I get them, an sometimes I don't. Sometimes you don't see them for a while, and they make these decisions, these judgements, that just don't make sense.

Yup, I'm talking about someone in particular. Hey, what else am I going to talk about here? The mafia?

I'm going to see a band in a few minutes. And the whole time I'm there listening to someone else's music, I'm going to try to pretend that I'm interested, and I'm not thinking about something else. Someone else.

I guess I'm kinda cut decisions were made for me, without me. No talking, discussion, nada.

Should I be angry? Dunno. Well, it aint no thrash metal band I'm listening to, so anger won't really be an option.

This is going to be more of a melancholy, remorseful gig. And me sitting in the centre of it and chain-smoking.

"F*ck this shit." That's a song by Belle and Sebastian. ANOTHER band I'm going to see alone. Or as alone as you can get surrounded by several hundred other screaming adoring fans.

F*ck the star-story. I got a thousand more where that came from. But, you know, you can have the story, or live with the story teller. And that's a decision for the reader to make.

And they're all amateur ornithologist at that. (J.D.Sal reference, for those beat and in the know)