I wonder what kind of person I would be, had I different expectations of life, and of myself, when I was younger?
Forgive me- it's winter, it always gets to me. The way you turn the heater off to try to save money, and the second you feel it's warm enough to do it, you feel the cold flow right back over you. Right through you tonight. Tracing the outlines of bones you never normally pay any heed to. I know exactly what shape they are at this moment.
And I don't want to share my bed right now. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's thoughts or feelings. I'd love to be able to sleep, but clearly that's not allowed.
I learned I'd rather just stare at the wall than fnish watching the new Pedro Almodovar movie (sorry Bonnie!). I just can't deal with rapid-fire Spanish, or Penelope Cruz, which is so unlike me it's bordering on the insane.
I've realised I really do smell each choc mint biscuit before I eat it, and that the eating is nowhere near as good as the smelling. That's a great way to lose weight, right there! Forget bulimia- just smell your food, and that's it.
I think too much as it is, winter just kicks it into overdrive. I'm not good with the cold. Crisp, I can do. Full cold, I'm out. I can sense myself in wireframe, waiting for summer to come render me again. Check me out, I make it sound like I live in Alaska or something.
I've been losing things lately, my camera, letraset, my ability to care about things. The usual. The frustrating thing about living in the digital age is you get so used to things working one way, you think you can expect the same performance out of everything. When you misplace your phone, you ring it. I reach for my phone when I lose my socks, as if they've got a number, and will start beeping and flashing at me from under the chair. Or when you meet someone in real life, and you're so used to msn or email, that you absent mindedly tap an invisible enter button at the conclusion of every sentence,
The last person I spoke to on msn was real big on animated emoticons, to the point where:
1. The conversation looked like downtown Tokyo at night, and
2. I had to question whether or not the person at the other end was 6 years old or not.
I'm 100% positive we won't be talking again, and that it's gonna take someone who looks like this:
...to get me back on there. Unfortunately for me, that's actually pretty likely. We're due a decent talk, and I'm not calling Canada. More problems.
The space bar on my keyboard is broken, so it takes me a billion times longer to type things than normal. There's no way I'm shelling out $50 for a new one. It's an Apple. I'm grumpy and frugal right now.
I wonder what it is that I want?
I have no idea. I think I want to be left alone, but I have too many people who want to see me. I don't know why they do that. Especially when I say "I'm in a shit mood, I'll just catch you later", and they say "No, it's fine- you just need a friend right now."
What I need, is for them to listen to what I just said, and not tell me what I need. People just shit me to death. There, I said it.
I have a new friend, and we had a Sunday stroll together. That was nice. It shouldn't have been- we're so intensely different, she should be the last person I want to share thoughts with. But because we're so different, and because there's less than no likelihood of either of us confusing the issue with sex, it just might be crazy enough to work. I hope so. If I read about her in a magazine, I'd say to myself "She sounds really interesting". I like interesting things, they interest me.
Besides, I can't get enough of the way she says "yes".
I went on an international guitar buying spree today, buying up every sea foam green Fender Stratocaster I could find, as they are no longer made. I bought two from the USA, one from Romania, and one from the motherfucking Maldives. Why I need four of the same guitar, I'll never know, but the mood I'm in lately, even I can't tell me otherwise. I even bought a blackberry, just because it looked cool, and a tangerine iMac laptop for the same reason.
I wonder who reads this shit? And what you think? and how bored must you be to subject yourself to it. Don't get me wrong, I like my blogs normally, I think they're pretty good. But reading this must be like watching someone average doing laundry.
I don't even watch myself do laundry, I outsource it all, and the person who does it isn't even average. She's a knockout actually. and still I don't hang around to watch it happening.
My best intentions really do get waylaid by nothing more than my own mind, and its amazing proclivity toward thinking about too many things at once, and doing none of them.
I need to get my shit together.
THIS, is knifey, from'the internet'.