thought patterns
2003-04-04 ~ 1:31 a.m.

is this clarity

brought about by the new 'eyes'?

or am i just getting ever more near the vast expanse of green that is my neverland?

or could it be that all those 'things'....yeah, those. i lost them all. every single one of them. like so many other things, like the pictures...and (more importantly) all my files. like the lights and the water and the gas and the phone and the satellite and blah blah blah blah...and i got the essentials back without selling my soul and i am still here and there is a lesson to be learned and blah blah blah....

just not needed.

is it strange that my very next thought after typing "not needed" was 'oh damn, i am sorry....i do need you!'? i am talking about electricity and gas and water....?

and i would ask if i really am that sensitive or just that fucking stupid if i didn't know at least three of you who would shoot me down dead floating in the water.

james taylor is singing and i have meatplow for a mouse.....speaking of, i changed the outfit on the fridge babe to the french maid uniform since i was cleaning the house of a mouse today.

having just returned from my own fridge....to get a beer i have determined that my thought patterns amuse me but i never remember the fleeting things zipping around naked in my head...but i am trying to catch a few.

for instance, i have determined that i will drink most any beer that has some form of the word 'light' in it.

the thought pattern started with going to bed....which is where i want to be. this naturally led me to think about her...after which followed the thought, again, of how she took an earlier shift 'just in case' and how that is an incredible thoughtful thing to do and how we might just travel so it is worth it. or something. there will be something. and how things are...and they are good.

and so...

here, we have arrived at "home"....which automatically redirects me to think of 'beer'....and in our home that usually means really really bad beer. the reason i still love old milwaulkee in a can. i just do. can't help it. like it's a fucked up gene my dad gave me.

and now that we are at 'home' and i still haven't had therapy ... well damn.

what else do i say?

racking the wrung out spin cycle that is my poor little head for the words....perhaps they swishswashed themselves down the drain...

....down the drain.

would that it were red.

would that i find the words. that i ever had the words.

to say what i feel. to give three dimensions to everything i've swallowed and not been able to cough out.

i want to go home....everything in me wants to go home. i need some fucking trees people. and some breathable air. but it really doesn't matter whether it is now or the weekend of the 18th.

and it isn't like i couldn't find something to do around here....

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