Friday, August 28, 2009

insomnial proclivity (an exercise in faulty-grammar)

the smashing pumpkins, meepmeep

because of my no-don't-feel-like-it sleeplessness, it is very night, as night as night gets, and i, reclined in an uncomfortable position on an uncomfortable bed in a mostly empty room (except for my half-opened bag on the floor, a small old-as-only-at-your-grandparent's-house-old plastic dirty tablette thing with an also old-as-your-grandparent's-house fan turning) and the window open so what there is left of air will maybe some of it find its way into my roomthing that i'm sleeplessing in, only now it smells like marijuana, where it is as night as night gets and maybe even more so than that.

having self-managed an overwhelming bout of aphrodisia i am left wondering why i don't write a story about a haunted-house. if not that, then a story titled all my best friends are septuagenarians, if not that then something else then but equally wonderful. i cannot though, writering is a thing i can only do when i am mostly alone because the writering is a relic of living in a half-way-world a place most people don't know about that exists kinda on the other side of your bed you know the side the side you never bother to vacuum over there, it's like being half-way-here but also not like half-visibility, it is a place where you're half-alive and half alive but somewhere else distant from everyone it is a very personal place very much just-yourself and sometimes very lonely if accessed the right way. i cannot be there if people speak to me talk to me write to me text me call me from farther rooms or in anyway interact with me like now there is much of that and i don't really mind because i want to see you. so. writering must wait for later.

gosh i am soo tired even in this more-comfortable-than-previous-sitting-position on this uncomfortable bed i can barely hold myself erect (not the aphrodisia, i just mean in general leaning up against the wall but almost falling over) and these words whatever is their point other than to record the scattered almost not-quite maybe reconsider half-worth-not-worth meaning(ful)(less)(est) moment of some(no)body's (half)life that in and of itself is worth an infinity worth of death or nonexistence which i prayed incessantly for for a couple of years back but now think is a fate worse than a teenager falling in love with you and texting you 14 times a day telling you all about it. (i wouldn't wish that on my evilest most nefarious sometimes friend).

if not most my best friends are septuagenarians than at least a story that includes threesomes and amphetamines and people running on beaches rocks instead of sand and heavy thick looking waves and beautiful women's lips and my sister one complimentary night in the loony-bin and my therapist says i have narcissistic personality disorder my psychiatrist says i have ADD-ADHD spectrum disorder my sister thinks i'm mad awesome and i need to rock-on till i drop-dead and my mom's pretty sure i'm just a lazy piece of sh*t (after which we all laugh as i cut myself a piece of cake and am ordered to make the tea darker in the future it is too light this time and last time too was too light)

these moments are perhaps (not) worth recording. i don't know. i don't know. i don't know. god they are tiny minuscule almost-never-happened moments the bread crumbs of our days no one ever remembers why the fu*k would i stay up till 4am i know someone's going to wake me at 8 tomorrow and i'm busy as an ambitious pimp on a public-holiday soon as the sun goes up in a few hours (but really i am craving more cake but i can't walk downstairs my sister's dog is god-damned Cerberus himself (only the girl poodle version ugly as the orphan kid no one wanted but endearing as all hell i love anything that loves my sister that damned dog loves my sister more than bitch-life itself when my sister goes out she sits under my sister's wheelchair or looks sadly out the window and waits waits dog-tail wagging soon as a car turns into the driveway barking mad lunatic raver on too much speed hello hello owner my love love my wonderfulest welcome home i am happy you are here barking viciously at me god dammit dog i have to lift her out the car you bark at me again i'll kick you in that ugly-assed-poodle-face of yours is that what you want? my sister says be nice Q that's my Bella. yes. fine. reunited at last the bitch and the handicapped retire to the latter's bedroom to recount the day's nonadventures to one another in notebooks over ipods and not-dark-enough-even-now tea (i don't care i cut my cake and am about to eat it too).

i know am i writering in funny-Q-speak-language but this time of night this is the only language that's spoken if you don't believe me hang around till 4am then come back and try and hava read it'll make perfect sense at 4am you can speak Q (and also leprechaun, fairy-floss, haunted-house, caterpillar, dark grass, suburbanite-emo-self-destruct-loathing-button-drunkard-initiatesequence-mass-boom-GO!. (but i'm not speaking that right now no where near that i'm speaking the opposite this is the language of chirpy-happy Q has too much to absorb say damn that fan makes a racket but brings me great solace in the nightest moment(s) or all night.

dear world:
you are too hot and i have a rash the size of Bangkok-Herpes from the damp San Fernadino Valley air, and of course my pockets are never deep enough and my car is soo dirty i can barely see out the front windshield, i have to be up sooner than i'd like and the three craziest people i know (grandma, ma, sis) are all screaming at each other all day for no reason about the strength of tea and even Jesus doesn't care what else while the dog barks and the cat (no one knows where she came from we just call her Kitty) keeps getting stuck in the pantry and i keep thinking why on earth would a rational person choose to come here for a holiday, and but then i remember i am not a sane rational reasonable person at all so i feel better about it and smile a crescent of yellowing enamel in the nighttime no one will ever know about or see or maybe didn't even happen it was soo in passing.

good night dear world.
good night dear loveliness.

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