Thursday, February 23, 2006

Stark Raving

You know... i don't even know anymore.

For the most part, i just stroll around and this happens and that happens and it's pretty much fine. Then suddenly, i want out again. I want out so bad i can taste it. And i don't even know what i'm in, let alone what's out. And i don't even know why.

Dull. Numb. Numb. Dull. Pointless.

I'm beginning to think i'm bipolar. But then again: whatever.

I'm missing out on the mania anyway.

Can someone tell me when life begins?

People judge me because i don't 'interact' with others. I am practicing. For when i am an eccentric author who hones her craft by shunning those around her. People tell me that *insert famous author here* sits in a cafe and people watches while writing *insert famous novel here*. Apparently this is interacting.

Just because people stand among other people does not mean they are interacting.

All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.

Not gonna lie. The insanity of the Shining actually appeals to me.

That scene on the stairs with wifey looking like walking death, pathetically swinging a bat at her crazy, yet happy looking, husband is maybe one of my favourite scenes ever.

But then again i am known for making outrageous claims like this.

I wonder sometimes whether my qualities are downfalls. whether my downfalls are qualities.

But who's to say really? Where do we draw the line? and who's on first?

As much as you try, life is not like books or movies. If anything it's like those open ended movies that people hate because they need their stories wrapped up in tight little packages because their lives are so hard to interpret that they can't take any more of it.

Life is like those movies people hate.

All anyone wants is to live like in the movies.

So we go to the movies with each other. And you call this interacting?

Fucking people are strange man. And they have the audacity to point fingers at me? I'll fucking cut that finger off if you don't stop pointing it at me.

Oh right. All in good fun.


I'll cut ties with everyone before too long and begin my slow decent to the bliss that is stark raving mad. I'm already isolated and three cats on my way there.

Like you care.

gyrovague (JYE-ro-vayg) n. A monk who travels from one place to another.

I wish i was a monk. I wish i was a nomad. I wish i was a gyrovague.


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