i'll have some of what he's smoking, please.
[via Deborah]
**
also:
i feel selfconscious and weirdinabadway posting this here. it needs clicking, in case that isn't readily apparent. aside from that i cannot explain, not the thing itself, nor my posting of it. but here it is anyway.
never wanting to leave a wrong impression with a batch of deliberate vagueness, these are some reassurances that everything is indeed interesting, and that in the spaces between the lines i'm having the time of my life and being that it is my life we're talking about, that can't feel like a romp through flowers in springtime. unless the flowers are enormous thorny rosebushes. and you're allergic. and there are bees. big ones.
and wouldn't you know it i have the biggest grin on my face writing this. which would indicate that i've either cracked under the pressure and that's a good thing, or i've cracked under the pressure and require the services of the PAT** team. seriously, there comes a point when you either embrace the chaos or it engulfs you and takes you down. according to recent figures from the institute for the painfully bloody obvious, i live for chaos. it is therefore illogical to whine when it happens.
so i've adjusted my playlist accordingly, popped foster's number two, and am considering actually accomplishing a few things this afternoon, as i find i no longer have even a whiny, irresponsible excuse for doing any more of the nothing i've been doing.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
**psychiatric assessment team. nice folks, really. they saved me from one of whatsisname's ex-girlfriends once, when she was camped out in my living room with an assortment of sharp things and a blowtorch. what? oh that was for the crack pipe. whatsisname was supposed to drive her to rehab. it seems she had changed her mind.
