Tastes like Coca-Cola
I'm bummed. It sucks. The shitty thing about having a generally sunny disposition is that whenever you're not smiling or laughing or torturing your friends with your smart-assery, everyone immediatly says"whats wrong?" And even though I listen to other peoples issues as my chosen career, I'm not as into sharing mine with others... actually in those painful moments what I really want to do is beat the shit out of anyone who even looks at me... so very non-violent of me. Crying is better... releases the tension and doesn't cost jail time. Who knew?
I left the campus wanting to push the beemer to trecherous speeds, but settled for loud eminem. Got home and went strait to my room, releaved that no one was in the house; no one would have to be slain today. A few deep breaths... "FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!" That helped.
What do you do when you could just flip your lid and freak right out? Hmmmm. Well I can write, thats always been a savior... but I need to burn. Put on my belly dancing costume, scarves and coins and arm bands... slap in the shakira concert and push my limits. I contort my body, isolating the hips only... now just my chest, arms snaking and then the music changes and I shimmy, snaping my hips and the sweat starts to drip off my face... on and on and on. Till it hurts. mmmm. That was it, just right...
Who needs guns or hangovers... Let me dance anyday. Open a bottle of Coke, a sick weakness of mine, but hey today the taste reminds me of the way I feel, acidic with a bite of metal. Hmmmm maybe I should make a fruit smoothy, I wonder what feelings those smashed berries will remind me of. I jump in a hot shower and try to drown myself in the water running down my face... it never works. Slap on the T.V. and flip through 76 channels of NOTHING.. unless you count miss stretchy face with the anti-gravity boobs trying to sell excersize equipment, or the worship channel (nuff said). Maybe 4 channels out of the whole 80 have anything interesting on and then I ask myself " so why the fuck am I watching T.V. anyway" and yet I flick, flick, flick. Still nothing. Pick up the Stephen King book lying on the coffee table, its been calling my name for hours already anyway, and find my place... and the living room disapears.
After some required reading I sit down at my laptop and work on C.L.1. My baby, the taste of the story overwhelms the acid on my tongue and I get lost in the world where a clone may very well represent the second coming of "christ almighty!" and all the fucked up shit that would bring along with it. This story turns me on, and I wish my fingers could move as fast as my thoughts... the lame feelings I have been having start to get lost in the waters off russia's coast and the mountians of B.C. I start trippin on this messy, harsh future I have created that lies just ahead of us, in the wake of greedy motherfuckers like good ole Monkey Boy... and my heat starts to rise... once again I feel like breaking something. Inside me Rage is an unloved teenage girl, thrown to the curb and fucked over. Watch out for her mouth... it shoots lightening bolts. Does any of this make any sense to anyone else?
Fuck it all anyway. In another day or so I'll be right as rain, always loved that image...
I left the campus wanting to push the beemer to trecherous speeds, but settled for loud eminem. Got home and went strait to my room, releaved that no one was in the house; no one would have to be slain today. A few deep breaths... "FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!" That helped.
What do you do when you could just flip your lid and freak right out? Hmmmm. Well I can write, thats always been a savior... but I need to burn. Put on my belly dancing costume, scarves and coins and arm bands... slap in the shakira concert and push my limits. I contort my body, isolating the hips only... now just my chest, arms snaking and then the music changes and I shimmy, snaping my hips and the sweat starts to drip off my face... on and on and on. Till it hurts. mmmm. That was it, just right...
Who needs guns or hangovers... Let me dance anyday. Open a bottle of Coke, a sick weakness of mine, but hey today the taste reminds me of the way I feel, acidic with a bite of metal. Hmmmm maybe I should make a fruit smoothy, I wonder what feelings those smashed berries will remind me of. I jump in a hot shower and try to drown myself in the water running down my face... it never works. Slap on the T.V. and flip through 76 channels of NOTHING.. unless you count miss stretchy face with the anti-gravity boobs trying to sell excersize equipment, or the worship channel (nuff said). Maybe 4 channels out of the whole 80 have anything interesting on and then I ask myself " so why the fuck am I watching T.V. anyway" and yet I flick, flick, flick. Still nothing. Pick up the Stephen King book lying on the coffee table, its been calling my name for hours already anyway, and find my place... and the living room disapears.
After some required reading I sit down at my laptop and work on C.L.1. My baby, the taste of the story overwhelms the acid on my tongue and I get lost in the world where a clone may very well represent the second coming of "christ almighty!" and all the fucked up shit that would bring along with it. This story turns me on, and I wish my fingers could move as fast as my thoughts... the lame feelings I have been having start to get lost in the waters off russia's coast and the mountians of B.C. I start trippin on this messy, harsh future I have created that lies just ahead of us, in the wake of greedy motherfuckers like good ole Monkey Boy... and my heat starts to rise... once again I feel like breaking something. Inside me Rage is an unloved teenage girl, thrown to the curb and fucked over. Watch out for her mouth... it shoots lightening bolts. Does any of this make any sense to anyone else?
Fuck it all anyway. In another day or so I'll be right as rain, always loved that image...
posted by clothosfate at 9:59 PM
8 Comments:
It's worse when you don't smile all the time. Like me. When you do, people ask,
"Why are you so happy about?"
Then I stop to justify my happiness, and that just kills it.
Which King book were you reading yesterday? I've read nearly all of them. I haven't read Cycle Of The Werewolf, Cujo, or Carrie, but I've read all the rest. The only one I actively disliked was Rose Madder. Good track record for Mr. King.
Very high praise for the King, I too have read nearly all.. funny enough I haven't read the ones you listed either. I just finished The Dark Tower, and am trying to resist starting it over again from the beginning.
I have so many other books in my 'must read' stack that I have to wait. My favorite King book is... hmmm ... damn hard to finish that sentance. Well the one that I did not enjoy was Desperation... seemed too easy, not much depth.
The Stand. Yes I think that may be my ultimate, and yet, I fell right into the Dark Tower series... swallowed me whole. I don't think I can put the stand above it...hahaha
Ya. You get the idea. Got a favorite?
I hear ya about justification... when I'm pissed it feels the same, like I am NOT supposed to get crabby, if thats me then I should know what it feels like to be Wonder Woman by now... or dead.
I love The Stand and It, but my favorite is definitely The Talisman.
Dusty!! thats sacrilige! ;P
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Dusty, I find Anne Rice to predictable, melodramatic, and far too velvetty. So there!
To be fair, I did read most of her books when I was in high school and enjoyed the witch books quite a bit. I tried to read the vampire books again five years ago and all the self-pity and ennui of Louis got me to chuck the book out my window. It landed on my sister's head and she's been a Rice freak ever since.
I even went with her to New Orleans where she got flowers from Rice's gardener. We also met Anne Rice in Milwaukee at a book store in 2000. Anne was a Gore supporter and I wore my Nader shirt. She scowled. I grinned ear-to-ear.
I'm not killing anybody without permission first.
I'm calm.
hahahaha
Post a Comment
<< Home