ra

Hg(CNO) 2.2
2001-08-15 07:46:44 (UTC)

hypnophobia + hydromania

it's reality dodge ball and thoughts fly by: the scene is
amok with chaos. suddenly - 'thud'. i'm hit. wait a
minute...that's not a soft-contact foam ball...it's my
biological clock.

i can be submerged in the bathtub (my favorite thing is
to take a bath with the shower on to recreate
precipitation.*), making the 5pm drive home on a
freeway that is 7 mph shy of qualifying as a 3-D still life,
or flipping through old copies of: brill's content/atlantic
monthly/new yorker/talk/harper's/cosmo and all others in
the anorexia-glorifying, false-feminist-ridden,
sociologically-myopic,100-ways-to-please-a-fireman-in
-bed-genre/in a blind hunt for images to manipulate in
art collages, when IT hits me. this incessant need to
suck life dry of it's every experience. tick tock tick tock.
IT. my biological clock.

i need lifetimes by the gross dozen. u-haul shipments
delivered upon demand. one to spend per country plus
antarctica (am even willing to cut a share lease deal
with some of the 'vakias).
i want to do so much, endless ideas flood the realms
of What-If: invent something, read everything,
write infinite infinite jests, float on the dead sea, part the
red one, find the cure, orange yukata (-)hair = monastic
existence, take a barrell down niagra falls, wipe away
your tears, quicken quantum physics, learn to play the
violin blindfolded, live on a train, dance in the eye of a
hurricane, film a documentary called 'snapshots from an
airport', write a normal journal entry...

right now i'm smirking at myself from that last
comment and i know i appear infectiously ridiculous.
i secretly delight in watching other people when the look
of self-bemusement creeps across their face.


NEWS FLASH at 2:06am
~pious proclamations, macabre manifestations
and beatnik blasphemy~

spangler candy corp., makers of the dum-dum, have
come out with a new flavor called "buttered popcorn".
i declare myself an unfortunate victim of this sadistic
concoction and want to warn you not to fall prey to the
abysmal imposter (trust me, it's no cherry).


*i love rain in a borderline-obsessive way. i like to go
out in the rain and sometimes spin in circles and
sometimes splash in puddles and the fact that i am
twenty-going-on-five escapes me because big
slobbering drops are ricocheting off my tickled skin and
i'm laughing and twirling and running and yelling. i like
the rain on saturnine saturdays because tears can get
lost in the wetness from above and if you have ever
seen water pounding on roses you will understand
how easy it is to succumb to emotion over this
heartbreak called life and how through sobs you will
grow stronger because you have faced the world and
now bear it's scars and taste it's sorrow. i once stood
outside while it was pouring in the back yard of an old
friend's house while he sat under the covered patio
and watched me curiously. and i continued to stand
out in the rain even though the drops stung and closed
my eyes and when i opened them i realized he was still
looking at me and i'll always remember his expression,
it was something between awe & devastation. i asked
him why he was sad but he just gave me a weak smile
and said nothing, then came and led me back inside
because by this time i was drenched and shivering.