i have to be up in four hours. less, even. i should be sleeping but i just assembled my replacement fan for the awesome one i had last summer. it broke, broke while i still lived in watertown but i carted it out and away. i didn’t want to leave it behind. not because i liked it or because it worked, just because i didn’t want someone else using it. stupid selfish bullshit. and when it came time to move out of good ol’ #33, i tossed it. because it was broken and i shouldd’ve replaced it long, long ago. i should be sleeping but i just can’t turn off whatever it is that keeps incessantly buzzing around in my mind, keeping me awake, keeping me aware, keeping any restful slumber just out of my grasp. i wonder if this is perhaps why i don’t really dream….when i’m awake, my thoughts are overflowing. and unfortunately, it’s never anything productive or particularly useful. in fact, the more time i have alone with my thoughts the more critically introspective i become. viciously critical, actually. it seems i only ever manage to get any real sleep when i’ve either mentally or physically exhausted myself. imagine if i put that energy to something productive? or rather, if the exhaustion was the result of actually contributing something worthwhile to the world? you know, like solving world hunger or cold fusion or some shit. at the very least maybe inventing a way to make alcoholic popsicles. you know, something fuckin’ useful. but no…i do nothing but drown in random musings and eventually wear myself out. stupid shit. pointles shit. shit shit shit shit. ad infinitum although, at least now i can do it in a significantly cooler room. however, i’m not looking forward to forcing myself into unconsciousness. it’s never particularly restful, and almost always completely dreamless. maybe that’s why i’m so…so…jesus what the fuck am i? “productivity” is speculative. so i’m going to have to go with simply “useless” on this one. i could sit and think about what i’ve accomplished in life but that will ultimately dissolve into what i’ve fucked up in life and i honestly think it would be better if i were to just drive a screwdriver into my eyeballs. if i don’t dream…is there no ambition? no creativity? no hopes? then again…dreams don’t always come true. so i suppose there’s no letdown. i should be sleeping, because i would genuinely like to rest. not this awkward passing out where i’m just plain wiped, but not really rested. not restored. they say that a restful night’s sleep is good for your metabolism — which, explains a lot (do you hear that, ass? do you?!). then again, i knew a lot of CS majors/massively insomnia-prone geeks who would maybe average around 10 hrs. of sleep a week that were concentration camp thin. all emaciated like. then again, the absolutely hardcore apparently can live off of jolt cola, obsessive competitivism (is that even a word?), and code fragments. maybe that’s what’s wrong with me? then again, if i were to give in and try and suss out all the things that make me especially defective i wouldn’t sleep for weeks…and really, i’d rather be playing madden. escapism has it’s appeal, ya know. isn’t suss a fucking awesome word? because you don’t initially think it’s a real word, but there it is. for reals. although, coallication, is that what it’s called? when two words belong together, or are commonly used together because alone they make no sense? “suss out”. “bereft of”. “deez nutz”. i should be sleeping but apparently stupid shit like this keeps rattling around in my brainmeats. what the fuck, all? you know this is just going to fuck me up somethin’ fierce tomorrow. i may give into the dark side and get d&d coffee tomorrow or something. i may have no other option. i should be sleeping…but even the mere thought of coffee is getting me riled up. just the image of it sends a jolt of phantom caffeine through my veins. i wonder what would happen if i held onto a mental image of heroin long enough…? or would i have to try it first, you know, to accurately envision it. then again, i fucking hate needles. and i couldn’t afford it anyway — besides, how sexy are track marks? they are the anti-sexy, and i’ve already got plenty of that goin’ on without adding to it. but wouldn’t that be a novel idea? phantom heroin. phantom crack. phantom weed. cheaper & just as effective (although you wouldn’t be able to shot-gun any infants with phantom weed, i would imagine). mental intoxication. or maybe that would be a little too close to mental retardation…anyway, i’m totally not serious. totally all hugs, not drugs, people! totally. because i should be sleeping, but i keep hearing the noises of allston rock city outside my bedroom window…and wondering who the fuck else is up at this hour? what are they doing? why do they feel the need to be so fucking loud walking down the street? the bars are closing — if not already closed — so maybe they’re just drunk. or maybe they are the mentally intoxicated/retarded, who only roam the streets in the wee hours of the night, thinking themselves into oblivion. er, um…something. maybe i should’ve gotten drunk when i got home. maybe maybe maybe…maybe i should be sleeping….
timesucks
web comix
- achewood
- alien loves predator
- chugworth academy
- ctrl * alt * del
- death to the extremist
- diesel*sweeties
- dinosaur comics
- filthy lies
- jerk city
- least i could do
- mac hall
- ornery boy
- p i x e l
- penny arcade
- queen of wands
- questionable content
- something*positive
- strip tease
- the boondocks
- two lumps
- vg cats
- wapsi square
- white ninja
eargasmic
