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082604 1:16 a.m Black Postcards
I have "Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues in my head on repeat for some odd reason.
My mind otherwise is bereft of productive thought. There's nothing underneath the hood,
the sleeping pills made sure of that. I'm so stoned out of my gourd that smoking a cigarette
and typing are quite a chore. I worry sometimes that I've taken too many and wonder just
how close I bring myself to an "accidental" overdose. You know, tv and movies are a bit vague on the dosage.
They just tell you the character "swallowed a bottle" of them. Were they 25 or 50 mgs?
Were they tablets or caplets? Had they ever taken any before and perhaps have some tolerance?
Where's the brass and tacks? I need some details over here..
"I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you"
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10:20 a.m.
I've gotten better at waking up early on my own, although the thing that wakes up isn't
much to look at. Yesterday and today have given me some paltry excuses for not getting
anything done. somedays feel like a crushing slide towards the end of everything.
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Escape is never the safest bet.
11:47 p.m. I guess I'll be going out to eat with my folks tomorrow. I'm disappointed
even though anything I might want is so utterly out of my reach and unattainable right
now. I think about the best that I can hope for is to plop down in front of the tv &
watch something I enjoy and get lost in it for awhile, or maybe have some nice dreams of
better days that I can actually remember in the morning. I know I'm just whining and
complaining, but even when you know you're doing better than you have been, it's a small
consolation when there's still so much more to go before things will be good. I have at
the most modest of estimates at least 6 more months here. Who am I kidding? I'll be lucky
if it's less than a year. And those can be some long months when you're already so tired
of where you are and how your life is. I have at least learned that I have a decent amount
of patience, far more than I thought really, but how long can I expect it to last? I AM
mortal after all, everything around me including, (and especially), myself IS finite.
I keep telling myself it's gotta work this time. I have to nurse what little fire I can cobble together
but being optomistic and realistic is t-fucked intersection with heavy crosswinds.
Hope and reality just don't always work out
to be the same and the consequences of when they are not can be devestating. I want the
new eyes, I want the new feeling, I want a new way, but this straining your eyes to try and
catch site of it on the horizon with only a pocket of faith-change to ride cross continent
on the reinvention bus when your schedules about ten years old can look like insanity from
the vantage point of where my ass has been parked.
neon in the window
sirens far away
news on the radio
happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday
*Meh* Smokes a butt, shakes it off, and goes to watch some tele..
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