I Need To See More People
Since these blogs are about ill-researched politics, partisan politics, or the mundanities that compromise western culture (and are celebrated by some) I'll choose the latter.
I am apolitical, you see.
Anyway. I have not seen the sun rise for a long time. Years. I used to get up at 6. Now, no sun. So far, Seasonal Affective Disorder hasn't affected me. Isolation has.
You know, extreme isolation is supposed to make people go crazy. I had trouble believing this, but in a series of actions make me believe that I have truly gone insane. I have only spoken three sentences in the past week to people. It's gotten crazy.
Anyway, on my desk/table, there are two bottles of Stewart's Fountain Classics Black Cherry sodie pop. One of them has days old tap water, the other, the last vital scraps of precious black cherry sodie pop that tortures me with the goodness. Now, when you drink things out of a bottle, there's always a tiny bit of liquid that stays behind in the ring of the bottle that everybody leaves.
Anyway, I took the swig of the days old tap water, listening to Johnny Depp as Hunter S. Thompson. The days old water tasted like it was days old.
I had to expel this dark, alien purity.
I thought about the other bottle, but that was a no go. That had a few precious black cherry soda left in it. I wanted to drink it.
Briefly, the thought of drinking it with the water still in the mouth, but then I thought, "My taste buds won't feel it." But I still had to expel this purity.
Luckily, I still had a Nestea lemon favour can in my room, which I had also neglected to throw out. It had iced tea in it, but I don't like iced tea as much.
Putting the can next to my mouth, I spit the water into the can, as the opening sucked it in like a drain. Now I was free to get the last precious drops of black cherry soda.
"I am a God," I said.
As I am typing this, I am briefly considering drinking the days old water again.
I am an internet addict also.
Je suis un intoxiqué d'internet.
Sounds classy, don't it?
I am apolitical, you see.
Anyway. I have not seen the sun rise for a long time. Years. I used to get up at 6. Now, no sun. So far, Seasonal Affective Disorder hasn't affected me. Isolation has.
You know, extreme isolation is supposed to make people go crazy. I had trouble believing this, but in a series of actions make me believe that I have truly gone insane. I have only spoken three sentences in the past week to people. It's gotten crazy.
Anyway, on my desk/table, there are two bottles of Stewart's Fountain Classics Black Cherry sodie pop. One of them has days old tap water, the other, the last vital scraps of precious black cherry sodie pop that tortures me with the goodness. Now, when you drink things out of a bottle, there's always a tiny bit of liquid that stays behind in the ring of the bottle that everybody leaves.
Anyway, I took the swig of the days old tap water, listening to Johnny Depp as Hunter S. Thompson. The days old water tasted like it was days old.
I had to expel this dark, alien purity.
I thought about the other bottle, but that was a no go. That had a few precious black cherry soda left in it. I wanted to drink it.
Briefly, the thought of drinking it with the water still in the mouth, but then I thought, "My taste buds won't feel it." But I still had to expel this purity.
Luckily, I still had a Nestea lemon favour can in my room, which I had also neglected to throw out. It had iced tea in it, but I don't like iced tea as much.
Putting the can next to my mouth, I spit the water into the can, as the opening sucked it in like a drain. Now I was free to get the last precious drops of black cherry soda.
"I am a God," I said.
As I am typing this, I am briefly considering drinking the days old water again.
I am an internet addict also.
Je suis un intoxiqué d'internet.
Sounds classy, don't it?
posted by Marshall McMahon at 1:17 AM
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