the award for most improved.

one is urged to act, to live, as if no one would tell one "no".
so, i tell myself, "yes."
yes, i said
ok, i've never read that convoluted book
but the one i'm not writing is not because i'm afraid of "no".
let's pick up the joke, that i have an idea, that i write, that i put those pages into a story, and the story into a book. and send it off.
and nobody says, "no."
they say "yes" and then "how much"
let's say they all said that & then there was the book.
there was my book.
yeah, well, it still might suck.

that's the truth of it.

i'm this chick. and i read stuff. and there's nothing to write for, except to prove some vague thing to a family who prolly didn't know they were supposed care.
i'm the one on the 2nd hand (or 3rd hand, technically) couch that's looking south into a lifetime of nothin'.
i'm the one with a finger on a devoid divine.

stretchin waaay out on these ninety years.

aren't i ok to let this incarnation be a complete waste?
aren't i just that lazy?

but midnight majong, does NOT seem where it's at.

i'm reminded of those fifties style comic strip art clip, i don't know what the hell they're called..."oh my god, I forgot the children."
Only i'm not 45 and forgot to have kids, i'm 32, pointless, and seemingly only care for show.

These people who meditate on the divine. these folks who sit in the hand of god, well. welllll. i'm no fuzzy bunny enthusiast.
i'm all for this is that. i am everything, etc., et al. sure, sure, run with it. but does it lead to the divine or just to one big, slowed down version of the same i'm-bored-with-famous-people reality that i've been successfully avoiding for a meager ten years?
oh god.

i did not believe in boredom. but previously i had only fathomed it in moments, not a lifetime of mediocrity. oh my god.
i feel like this is a salvia trip that isn't ending. time and reality have slid off their respective constructs and are in a puddle on the floor. this, this surgical steel of life, is it.
cuz what would it really? what's a dream? any goal. if, in some freak stroke of fortune, i accomplish one goal, where would that leave me? this is not a footnote for further failure, this is simply an on-line rationale at something akin, but far further, than nihilism. (which shouldnt', prolly, be rationalized, anyhoo.)

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spreadsheets, that's where it's at.

somewhere, some secretary, is logging into work right now.
like in, um...oh, damn, Dublin.
sweet charles martin daniel cass.
oh.

yes, but i've done some things right and i've learned a lot. yes, yes.

[my amusement tip o' the day: google ""oh my god"" images]