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damn, this being a grownup isn't all it's cracked up to be. the sheer mass of things that need to be done, needs to be done, and ought to be done have been snowballing downhill into one bigass ball of confusion. all work and no play... makes me one dull son-of-a-bitch. even one afternoon at the radio station, which should by all rights be a leisure activity only feels like one more monumental chore. feh. makes one a bitch, too: one who exists by bitching. nature hasn't been very cooperative, 's true. since most of what needs to be done is outdoors, the timely, incessant rain has compressed the avalanche into a sparking little black hole. of course, that's the kid who wants everything done yesterday speaking... who knows no restraint when taking on big projects. i've resigned myself to the fact that the house won't be done, painting-wise, before vacation begins on Sunday. at least, one section is all one colour, now... albeit grey primer colour. a big improvement over the shag-nasty scrape marks and multi-hued siding, made that way by leveling fifty years of paint of different palettes. when it's done, it'll be a lot larger scope than most of my precious little sketches. perhaps size does matter. or, at least, an accomplishment. maybe because of all of the self-induced pressure, my brain squeezed out another foul dream, Friday night. a death dream... being in a room full of people that i once knew, and many i'd never seen before. the unifying fact: these people were dead, and i was there with them. another bolt-upright shot back into consciousness. where have all the wet dreams gone? fuck... i put on some vintage DonDrummond ska music, now i can't think of anything else vile and depressing. today's antidote! god help us all if i ever get laid, after all this time. it's going to be the BigBang, all over again... no pun intended. christ... the older i get, the more crass i get. |
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