Tuesday, June 06, 2006

i wrote this yesterday

how much life can i take.

i can't sleep anymore. last night i slept at probably about 5am. and woke up at 9am. and laid there and stared at nothing and found a copy of on the road laying around and read fifty pages of it or so.

now it is 4am and i am trying to do work because i can't sleep and i am bored of staring at the walls so long i start to see things. where is the test plan i wrote? i think i grabbed a bunch of paper and wrote it on there and then later i took the whole stack of paper and started to write a story on it. and then lost the stack of paper. and then i found a journal i kept in high school and started writing test plans in that. oh wait i think i filed the paper with all the other paper in my filing cabinet called the floor. i have a really sophisticated filing technique that basically consists of throwing a bunch of paper all over the floor and tricking myself into believing i will be able to figure it out later. my awesome filing technique where every peice of paper in the house is laying on the floor next to the computer. oh look here is a picture i drew of myself laying on the floor waiting to die. 'might as well lay down on the floor and wait to die' it says. thank god this is here i don't think i could write my test without it. it is truly motivational.

why not? why not lay down on the floor and wait to die. file me under totally apathetic.

how come all the really smart people i know are the ones who can barely function as productive members of society? i could be happy sitting in a laundry basket in my closet thinking of all the things i think about for seven hours but then give me a bunch of mundane bullshit to do and i'm like HEY WHY DON'T YOU JUST GIVE ME A SCREWDRIVER SO I CAN JAM IT THROUGH MY RIGHT EYE, THANKS. maybe it is all the acronyms. maybe it is the little silhouettes of men and women in the power point presentation. they want to steal my soul i think.

i want to get a job at a library. i will stick some earphones in my ears and shelve books and maybe i can find a nice little place to hide and read. the flourescent lights in the library don't give me strokes the way the ones in my cubicle do.

if i wrote dreams i would write one for myself about a girl sitting in a cubicle and everything has this weird green cast to it like how they have for interrogation rooms or sweatshops in the movies and the flourescent lights are flickering and she has to press her fingers against her eyelid to keep it from twitching and she hears a crack and she looks up and the plastic from the light is cracking but it is cracking slowly and she is watching it and suddenly an army of tiny little power point business men and women silhouettes comes pouring out and they fall on top of her and stuff their little brief cases in her nose and mouth and ears and there are thousands of them and she can't breathe. then i would wake up.
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