midgets! midgets! midgets!

… cried the subject line, and i was … distracted. ‘hmm,’ i thought, ‘maybe that’s what i need. midget prøn. hell with this work bullshit, gimme nekkid midgets!’

and then it occurred to me … really nothing, nothing at all, i was blank like the most flabbergasted blank that’s ever been blanked. which brings to mind match game, remember match game? gene. gene rayburn. and then i remembered when george carlin, musing on the seven words you can’t say on tv (fuck shit piss cunt cocksucker motherfucker and tits), said that it was ok to say boobs because it was a standard answer on match game, or some such.

i guess you had to be there.

where for the love of holy mindfuck has the time gone? work, billable hours, drained down the howling vortex of just-never-know-land. a fact which would call for another interjection of fuck, as in what a fucking potty mouth i am here. and i don’t like this, aesthetically, it is coarse, unseemly, rude, crude, (or in the context of this evening in particular, mild, gentle, and understated, but i digress).

i digress, and i cuss gratuitously, to the extent i make my ownself uncomfortable as all hell here, which … brings me to blank again. blank will be fine, and thanks for nothing is something i would say (not a hint sarcastic intent in it) if only nothing would ever happen, but what are the chances? i’ll answer: chances are, it will happen, just not in this lifetime.

so then it felt like i ought to step outside this, adopt a disappointed stance and claim i never meant to write such an uneven unlyrical unlovely unwonderful thing, attempting to elicit encouragement and/or lessen the offense of it (circumstances in mitigation: defendant went ahead and did it, but she didn’t like it, no not one itty-bit. nossir, she turned her nose and sniffed askance at it. she did.)

however upon further consideration i believe that would be a pretentious snotload of a thing to try and claim, so i won’t. and while i might regret releasing this thing from oblivion, i promised honest when i came to this place, and honest is often ugly. more often than not, really, although we are royally loathe to admit that, aren’t we?

2 thoughts on “midgets! midgets! midgets!

  1. Honest is often ugly. Reality is ugly (at least lately). Sleep is my only relief, because once I dip my toes into the pond of chemical oblivion I fear I won’t be able to drag myself back onto shore. Ever again. So I lay in bed listening to the endless newscasts homogenize and spin current events until they have no connection at all to the reality of the situation that is really taking place, after all how can we expect an embedded (inbedwith) reporter to convey the feelings of somebody who has been pounded into the dust all their life and now is getting pounded into the dust again.

    I’ve just noticed surreally.org has fallen off the internet. Perhaps into the same black hole my pictures zoomed into. I want to dive into cyberspace and reach into the servers and maybe wrench a handful of wires out in hopes that my actions will fix this problem (and every problem anybody has ever had) but I know that’s just a pipe dream of a disillusioned soul that went from being the kindergarden spelling bee champ and sports whiz to being a damaged and scared adult who can barely even answer the phone or say hello to the neighbors or (for that matter) do anything right without somehow fucking it up or at least leaving ugly messy stains and scratches all over.

    I have to go now. I just got an e-mail telling me I may have won a vacation in Bermuda.

    Cookie me please.

  2. i was the youngest person ever to advance to the countywide final spelling bee. i was nine. i blew it onstage on a word i totally knew, because the last four steps echoed when you walked up to the microphone and all the people a whole auditorium and i think i had to pee too.

    but i got my picture in the paper and a special award and all.

    and lookit me now. huh. oh well.

    do we want to go into all my 99th percentiles? no, we don’t. they matter so little, and thank god everyone’s stopped harping on me about my fucking potential.

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