kanji

26 December, 2005
lying in a burned out basement

with roadmap etched eyes, i bask in the swollen, headachy aftermath. i keep thinking about DarrenMcGavin in AChristmasStory, sitting on the couch while the presents are WerewolvesOf Londoned... bleary, half-lidded, wobbly. too many Tom&Jerry's i suppose... but an exact duplicate of what's going on in my head, at the moment. i haven't braved the mirror, yet.

No, as a testament to overdramatism, it was not, in fact the Worst Christmas In The World, Ever. as soon as i typed that, i knew i was full of shit. but i left it that way, anyhow. there are real disasters that certainly have greater qualifications... i guess i qualify waking up alone as a disaster, lately. but, as i was expoecting, my trip down the Virginia Plateau would verify ThomasWolf, You Can't Go Home Again.

but more about that, later.

right now, i need to cut this fog to button down this house before i have to leave for work... a mental one, not unlike the real Jack-the-Ripper-style one i drove through on my way home, not so many hours ago. after CartaBlanca-VodkaTonic-GinTonic self-abuse for most of the evening.

much more desirable: a big, greasy hamburger with fries on the side, nice unhealthy carbonated softdrinks, and an afternoon on the couch in just-gifted flannel PJ bottoms, watching hour-upon-hour of EnglishPremierLeague Boxing Day action.

it don't play like that, though. this rollercoaster doesn't slow down until Thursday.

i wonder if there's a site dedicated to McGavin's tapestry of obscenity? i could use the laugh.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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