Aah morning and I feel like a headless chicken especially when I’ve got so much time on my hands, cupped like orbs waiting to be freshly juiced. Brad Pitt’s voice from Fight Club goes like a gong in my head, ‘your life is ending one minute at a time.’ Patience evades, panic settles on skin like gooseflesh prickling to a siren. Food is gobbled. Taste scathing on tongue…like I don’t deserve to have it any longer.
Gaah! When most things are fire walled and discretion and quickies to blah and co is a must so as to not get them tagged ‘forbidden’ by abishtoo spouting IT people, and to ensure that rituals can be conducted without interference the next day, abstinence meanders to boredom, which in turn chugs towards Linda Goodman’s zodiac signs. Scorpio. I am cute. Not some husky voiced seductress. I’m specksie boo up for cuddles. Egad!! I guess it's the same difference the bones make...one's own voice sounds different from the way others get it. Can’t escape Specksie Boo even if my name is ‘Arcane’ insists p'dner.
Overall emotional compatibility – Aquarius. True. Overall incompatibility – Leo. False. People I’ve fallen hard for including my first crush in 2nd std is a Leo and I still trip on him. Plus, i've discovered him online after aeons. Though none of that sucked-in-stomach state happens anymore, it's still got the highlights going off my cheeks. Secretive. I just forget to tell. Dreamy eyes. I’m an insomniac. And I don’t have a planet anymore. Pluto isn’t a planet…tsk tsk.
Watched Hostel…freaky concept…torture house where you can explore your sadistic side on a variety of nationalities, American’s being the most high-priced. Very disturbing to know that violence of that kind is imaginable. Charles Manson’s a Scorpio. Don’t understand violence being described as animalistic. Animals hunt to survive. But then sadism seems to be a singular entity, which needs to thrive. Incidentally, goo from the vein connecting the eyeball to the skull looks like mint sauce. If this were Happy Tree Friends they'd be slurping it up
Now, how can someone constantly turn ideas into senile vegas boards?! That only. How?! An awareness ad was turned into an obituary for the dead person. Now it's cheesy glamour, uncool bling, raunchy glitz and all of it in one go has got to clear the stomach lining out.
1 comment:
you are undoubtedly one of the most delightful writers i've read. it comes from being who you are.
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