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Day Two of the Heebie-fucking-Jeebies. Don't know what the hell's got into me... bad dreams, a gnawing in the guts, feeling like a complete nervous wreck for no apparent reason. If someone were to sneak up behind me and touch me on the shoulder, it'd be Heart Attack City. I hate this. Plus, it's cold as balls. It's all about unpleasant shocks to the system. A Man Out Of Time. Unless I've got unfocused psychic abilities portending calamity (which I doubt), there must be some kind of chemical brouhaha going on in the DNA. And it sucks... and must be changed, soon. Maybe if I hook up the jumper cables, and attach one to my ankle and the other to my tongue... perhaps not. Better Living Through Chemistry, my ass. Give Me Strength. After I got the cellie activated this evening, I gave Miss Jane a ring... or more correctly, a "bling-bling." It appears that her daughter (who I will refer to, henceforth as "Josie"... as in Josephine Baker) and her youngest dropped in last night, and stayed until this evening. Add the Jehovah's Witnesses, tomorrow, and her social calendar is thriving. Yet, she has a snivelling fit if my friends ever show up... in front of them. The end-of-the-rope is nigh... and it's getting frayed. But I've moaned about this before, and that prescription hasn't been filled. What's a po' fool to do? Now, watch... I'll be all cool tomorrow. Like it was all a dream. Blizzard or no. Like Faron Young sang: "It's a great life if you don't weaken." Smartass hillbilly. |
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