Yesterday was spent recovering from hangovers. A lot of them. I laugh at myself, at the ridiculousness I create every damn second and none of it's intended to be funny. Coffee, cigarettes (ineffective recovery methods but ritual nonetheless) and I'm off on my way to do something else somewhere but not there. On a mission, I say, so I can leave without feeling too guilty that I probably won't get to the things I intended to. I'm consumed with thoughts of now, of yesterday, and tomorrow seems so damn hard when today's already dying alone. The ones I wished to share it with are preoccupied.
My preoccupation is them.
Theirs is other people, places, things. So busy. So involved.
The internet. Saw a picture of a future girlfriend to someone out there. It wasn't me.
See how this doesn't work?
I think I need to get a dog (strike that) I think I want to get a dog.
I put too much faith in some, not enough in others, and I'm disappointed all the time by behavior of those so newly placed on my good list.
Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa Claus had the right idea.
Always check it twice (spell check Santa, too).
Can I be a word inventor? I mean, is that possible? I invented a lot of them last night being a blithering idiot, recovering from information, from sentiment that left me speechless. I plug my ears; sing la la la, everybody! It won't hurt if I can't hear it.
(Santa Claus isn't real)
Fell into disbelief of love and those little things that won't work in the long run, it seems, because right now it's already tainted. I am shaking my head at myself, preventing my vision from focusing on the reality I thought I constructed pretty damn well. Theme songs, names that don't matter, creatures I've yet to identify, pictures of faces – they're all stuck in this wheel, the man keeps turning it and pulling out letters, numbers, calling them out to the crowd to see if anyone's really listening.
B-I-N-G-O.
I want to find the one that's listening.
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