oh the hell with reality. i mean it. hell with it. i’m gonna get really drunk while i’m packing. and take lots of breaks to do drunk blogging. probably.
what are a lizard’s favorite things? wingnuts on roses and flippers on kittens, sure, but her very very favorite things are guys in dresses. without further ado, here’s a … guy in a dress (what you were expecting flippered kittens?)
… and other things that didn’t happen today:
today, a starbucks was not firebombed, its employees not cooked slowly and excruciatingly into blackened lumps of carbon by the gasoline-fueled flames in spite of the lies, the lies, the filthy lies, they could have broken that fifty, you know it, i know it, they knew it. also, we have it from the disgruntled staff members of some very reliable sources that there were no consequences of any kind visited upon the deceitful evil bitch behind the counter with the shriveled twisted excuse for a soul, even though the universe is just a little further from balance as a result.
in other non-news, a sanctimonious ex was not found justifiably chopped into bite sized morsels, nor was his flesh shredded from bone by a small but determined group of angry wolverines. he did not trip and fall under the wheels of anything big enough to matter, nor did he lose any appendages in an unfortunate axe accident. after none of this happened, there was no rejoicing, no parade, nada, zip, zero, the big diddly squat: no liquored-up nekkid folk were caught on tape as they swarmed into the streets in celebration, there was no lootin’ the pharmacies, not a dang thing (sorry, the network won’t let me say goldang). on the bright side there were no arrests.
this has been brought to you by stolichnaya peach and a tremendous effort of will.
this morning, i woke up slow, in layers, gentle, warm, emerging from the unfolding dream blending smooth and easy into the waiting day. the Son of lizard noticed this, and as usual had things he’d been waiting impatiently to tell me:
the son: god is real. and she is everywhere.
the mom: ¿she?
the son: yeah, i think god’s a girl
there you have it.
kid: mommy, can i tell you something?
kid: god’s real !
me: um. ¿what?
kid: ¡¡ god’s real !!. i was sitting in my room and one of my toys went [insert toy sound]. i heard it! it’s god! god’s real!
unusually this woozy this early but here it is, time, time. relentless procession of thoughts shuffles past, shabby refugees of the uncivil unrest of the past four decades, anxiously searching the uncertain territory ahead with shattered eyes mostly but here and there a glitter, a glimmer, hope.
hope has always been the enemy, cunning and deceptive and utterly merciless and yet after all these years still irresistable still powerful persuasive with the delicious feasts of visions, how easy it is to settle into the warmth the fullness the seductive comfort; sedated in this decadence i drift off and the next thing i know it’s the same old hard cold wakeup in a muddy ditch missing everything that mattered, even though it was unreal, it is still a loss.
is this depressing? shit i was gonna be funny but i had this in draft and i thought hey, have i whined enough lately? why yes. should i whine some more? why of course!
in unrelated news i am having to hold myself back by my own hair to keep from installing mysql 4.1 alpha release, i *need* the new features. oh god you have no idea. subselects! i need subselects sooooo bad. but it’s in alpha. thou dost not subject thine webhosting clients to alpha releases unless … unless you really need to right?
not recommended if realism is important to you. not that this isn’t real. your mileage will most definitely vary. you were warned.
i’ll have some of what he’s smoking, please.
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.
** oi’ where’s the fucking bar john!
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.
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**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.
someday, if i’m ever kinda bored:
push car into gas station, up to the pumps. get out. wash entire car with that squeegee thing. thoroughly. get in car, start car, drive off.