It was tough. I don't like to whine, but still. Complaint after complaint after complaint . . . favor after favor after favor . . . meaningless. Private life - gone, vanished, perished and with it - well, to now, I'll keep it to myself. I know - it's me, right? It's never them, it's always you (Dylan Moran). I am a very calm person and still I found myself flinging my keys almost out the window the moment I stepped in my room, because I had forgetten about the open window. My foorwear touched the ceiling and landed behing a door. ... and they didn't even make a sound ... . ... I got my angel now ... . and the possibility of even seeing that angel are diminished to a mere fraction of a chance. The consolation - leisure (after my daily rounds, obviously) and a bag of megasized potato chips. A glance to my own imagination by an outsider might help me with my quest. Dashboard?? Right, to hell with this, but no - I can't - I've an obligation . . . to whom and what for and whence and for what and why and what for - what the fuck for???
Meaningless gibberish and still the best observation of one's mind. Laziness hit me . . . also insomnia and a whooping cough and depression - wonder why? I don't. I know the reason - not that I can do anything about it. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the number 42. Why seems it so important all of a sudden? And meaningful? Even the calmest and organised mind can be tipped over like a raft made of paper. You're everything I need and more - and I can't even lay my eyes upon you. Makes me sad to think of it. Makes me mad to think about the reason. Makes me wonder when did I start to express emotions again? Oh, right - I didn't. I just write down what I would've thought. That makes sense to me. But then again I'm senseless to begin with, so that leaves it be. "If I can get that last bit of card off there . . . " let me see your halo . . . the Improbability Device of some sort . . . But a 7,5 million year long thing with the answer of 42 and not knowing the question - I like the book - I can relate to it. To listen to a song for more than twenty times at almost maximum sound and not getting bored with or about it - amazing. You're everything I need and more - it's written all over your face. I can see your halo. Tiredness, typos and yet I can't sleep for I know that every second awake is one that's won by me to seize the day and do something for my own account. Unfortunately that leaves me with a despairingly little amount of sleep and it's taking its toll. To resist all that is thrown at me from one very particular angle is all I can do - no mental, physical or any kind of strenght to fight back.
Halo. feel, see . . . the silence when I take off the earphones will be absolute - compared to what I'm used to now.
Meaningless gibberish and still the best observation of one's mind. Laziness hit me . . . also insomnia and a whooping cough and depression - wonder why? I don't. I know the reason - not that I can do anything about it. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the number 42. Why seems it so important all of a sudden? And meaningful? Even the calmest and organised mind can be tipped over like a raft made of paper. You're everything I need and more - and I can't even lay my eyes upon you. Makes me sad to think of it. Makes me mad to think about the reason. Makes me wonder when did I start to express emotions again? Oh, right - I didn't. I just write down what I would've thought. That makes sense to me. But then again I'm senseless to begin with, so that leaves it be. "If I can get that last bit of card off there . . . " let me see your halo . . . the Improbability Device of some sort . . . But a 7,5 million year long thing with the answer of 42 and not knowing the question - I like the book - I can relate to it. To listen to a song for more than twenty times at almost maximum sound and not getting bored with or about it - amazing. You're everything I need and more - it's written all over your face. I can see your halo. Tiredness, typos and yet I can't sleep for I know that every second awake is one that's won by me to seize the day and do something for my own account. Unfortunately that leaves me with a despairingly little amount of sleep and it's taking its toll. To resist all that is thrown at me from one very particular angle is all I can do - no mental, physical or any kind of strenght to fight back.
Halo. feel, see . . . the silence when I take off the earphones will be absolute - compared to what I'm used to now.
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