it's 11:46 pm, on February 08, 2002 - those who choose yum!.
~
So this is how it's going:
Am currently doing HTML tasks that any trained monkey could probably do just as well, or possibly better. Instead of this being depressing, as one might think, it's quite invigorating. I enjoy the mental challenge of doing a monkey imitation on the keyboard -- "hunt! peck! copy! paste! repeat! save! hunt! peck! save! copy! paste! paste! repeat! copy! paste! repeat! rinse! repeat!"
The reason I'm sitting here in my uncomfortable as fuck computer chair at ten to three on friday? last night, my uncle gave me a Pepsi twist. Which I wanted only because Britney did their commerical, and winked so prettily. To top that off, River ended up being online and so I didn't have a chance? "Who needs sleep! You're never gonna get it!"
I am mad-dancing. Two-step! as sheila would shout joyfully. I am rocking the fuck out of HTML. It is my bitch. I am a trained monkey, thoroughly enjoying my peanut butter crackers.
Could use another Pepsi twist though. "For those who choose yum!"
Really, it's Britney's fault that I am awake and that my eyelids are twitching. Perfect excuse to put her on, yes? yes. I thought so. Today, I will probably have a shower, and then get pretty and go out-- no, no. Today I will have a shower, climb into a nice clean bed, sleep until tomorrow, THEN I will have a shower tomorrow morning, get all pretty, go out, and buy more photo cards.
more. photocards. now.
I have a cupboard in my new computer desk that's perfect to put the peanut butter and honey in. Do all the HTML monkey geeks eat crackers here? is this the new monkey food? --my wrist hurts so much.
I have a life plan, too. See, I figured out that River and I? Write best when we're together. So she should move here, or I should move there, and then we should write books together. It could be a slashtastic fantabulous. It could. there are words here that want to get out of my fingertips to explain how good this idea is, but they are sticking somewhere above my wrists. This is in part, I'm sure, to the fucking huge ball of pain that is centered in my right wrist. Blocking the veins, the words can't get through. And all that.
Anyway. She doesn't know this yet. Don't tell her. The word I will use, in the absense of anything that makes sense, is "two step!"
why do the crackers and peanut butter fit in my desk? I am so disturbed.
"cause the whole world loves it when you don't get down!"
Also, River and I? Apparently rock. Because people are just comparing us to Benway all over the place. And that's -- did I ever tell you about how he gave me one of the nicest pieces of feedback I've ever gotten before? He said that I had a way of crawling around in other people's heads. Despite the slightly disturbing aspect of it, it's seriously the nicest thing anyone's said about me.
So anyway, people are saying that we captured his flavor. And hotdamn but I'm amazed.
This is why my plan makes sense. Together, we cannot fail. We shall write under a penname and pretend that it's only me, and she can live in Canada and I'll make all the income, and we can write together and get an apartment and maybe some ferns. Yes.
See, I've been up for too long, but that actually makes sense. Doesn't it? It does. I think it does. It would be a mighty fine way for her to emigrate without actually having to do it, at least in the begining, and it would mean that we'd have to spend a lot of time together.
~*~
That was all written this afternoon -- now it is night time and I have been up thirty six hours without stop or aid or my wrists collapsing in on each other. Though the third is imminent. Carpal tunnel, here I come.
But, watched Chocolat and then felt the intense need to do good in the world. Which was tempered nicely with Doqz's latest journal entry about being terrified of ceasing to exist.
I told Pebs just now that my eyes felt like South Beach, and then had to explain that was because they felt gritty. It made more sense where I'm from, I suppose. *sends a nod in Mel's direction.*
Intensely want, to be productive. Pepsi twist, for those who choose yum! could clean room. Will fold laundry. Will clean room. Cannot explain dizziness.
My incoherency rubbed off on Tap today.
Do you know what I want? I was thinking about this in the shower, because my wants are rather different, I think, and I was thinking about how cool it'd be to get the popodyssey or the brit in las vegas dvd for valentine's day. But, so.
First of all, I want some socks, because I don't have any and I need some, and I also want a computer chair. Then I want a TiVO, because yum. I also want a new job, where I can hold a palm-pilot and use it, and have my mobile ring and have it important -- and the service not suck. I want, a case of pepsi twist. and the first nsync cd.
a new apartment. a consumer life. --we all want it both ways: I want to hit bottom but I also want my string green striped pattern and my wire lamps made from environmentally friendly unbleached paper. My kisses? let'em tickle, I don't want a scar. Hitting bottom a weekend retreat, fuck that! send it to my phone, man.
Am wondering what will happen if I stay up much longer. Have done the insomnia thing, but not without river's help. Wish to get high. Am halfway there. Perhaps I'll sit back and watch some britney on the computer, be envious and turned on at the same time. --everyone successful should learn how to be desirable and enviable. We all want to fuck our idols.
Doqz said the line, "mysterious gods" and that was true at one point, but I also thing that "sexy gods" is more in tune with the new millenium. How else would Britney be where she is? The Invisible language of catch and release-- the question is, which side's recruited her.
Oh god, now I'm picturing nsync as Invisibles. Someone take me away.
~
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