November 27th, 2004

rock star ioan

Musclebound Miscellany

There are days when living inside my head is utterly exhausting. It's because I can't *stop* thinking.

Most people reach a logical conclusion and move on, or make a decision and like wise move on. Me?" I become *obsessed* with implications. Today I bought several books, and the worry over the implication of my purchases (on my free time, my creative landscape, my book cases which may or may not end up toppling over onto my sleeping person and if they do they may land on my injured leg and that would be absolutley terrible and there would be nothing I could do about so I'll probably put them underneath the desk but that will make the floor look cluttered and only the hasten of squalor returning to my room but squalor is better than permanent disability, the potential of my book collection now showing a very strange representation of one facet of my personality that I'm not entirely sure I want to recognize as accurate but must be, because I do have all those books and the further worry about carrying it and then the thought that perhaps I should have just gotten the books at the library rather than spending money was assuaged by the decision to pass them onto my brother who may or may not like them and may only use them as paper weights --- )


This is why I have no common sense. I mean, really. I spend too much time running in mental loops to ever have an actual sound thought. One that has a begining, a middle, and an end, like every good thought should.

Other things: Turkey makes me fall asleep in strange places and then end up in holiday pictures that some people refer to as 'cute'. These people are my father. These people are wrong.

Wesley's obsession with Angel gives me weird woogy uncomfort. He's such a kicked puppy, and it's all so BDSM and dammit, Lilah loves him. *kicks Angel into a convenient ray of sunlight and pushes Wes into the waiting arms of Lilah*

I read Marvel 1602 today and totally loved it. It's so PRETTY. I'm such a slut for pretty things. Also, Warren in 1602? I'm just sayin'. Hottt. I love me some angel-boys. (And even Angel himself, sometimes. Mainly I love Lindsey and Darla and Lilah and Connor and Wesley and Faith, though. And Fred sometimes. And Cordy before she gets annoying/evil.)

Oh, uhm, so the end of the semester is coming. I'm considering doing a daily tally like I did last year for the last week, but that may also be too much effort. Just know that things in Nifworld are going to get VERY VERY VERY FILLED WITH CRAZY STRESS BUSINESS VERY VERY SOON OMIGOD END OF THE SEMESTER WTF!?!??!?!!??!!?
  • Current Music
    Samson-Regina Spektor
ew bitch - crazyperfume

Upon returning home, I was shocked to discover utter and complete revulsion.

Oh my god, my house is made of filth.

The kitchen is like a death hole, filled with the reek of dying dead things and there is a huge spot of gross stickiness on the floor. I don't even care to speculate as to what this might be because of, all I know is that I can *see* clearly that something was spilled on the floor and that it sticks to the souls of my feet.

The refrigerator is -- it's like where bad smells go to decompose further. There are things in there that are developing ecosystems. Whole solar systems of disgusting, okay? Filth orbiting filth, stench orbiting stench -- I think there's some left over Chinese that has rings like Saturn and two moons.

It's clear that some people forgot that leaving for Thanksgiving doesn't mean that your food is going to leave, too. Or your dishes. Or your trash.

I'd clean it, but I have no soap or clorox or biohazard suit and I can't get to the nearest place to buy such things either. Instead, I'm just going to cower in my room spray perfume all over my things. My room, at least, only smells like stale smoke. This is something I can live with.

*weeps a little*
  • Current Music
    Two Coins-Dispatch
Clark RHPS

Gross kitchen: A Haiku Cycle of Wrath and Revenge

To Those It May Concern (Housemates, Beware)

O! Food, how you rot!
The smell of you is icky
and quite powerful.

Ah, how I recall
the days of yore when people
would clean up their mess.

But, alas, those days
have passed us by, giving
way to so much yuck.

Now I have no choice.
I wax wroth; punishment must
be meted out, fools.

You have toyed with death.
I will rip out your wriggling
spleens, my doomed friends.

Yea, though I enjoy
your company there is
a price to be paid.

Your bones will be mine
when I murder you awfully
as retribution, natch.

*sigh* Haiku can only distract me for so long. Either I'll turn to sonnet now, or seek distracting porn.
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