There's rust upon my cigarette
Lipstick, on the windowpane
When the nice lady at the health food store explains that the little vials she's selling at the counter, labled Guarana and costing you a measly $1.50 each, are approximately equivalent to one of those beastly energy drinks or a cup of coffee, you should stab the lying bitch in the face.
So I'm at work, and it's late into the night. Thanks to the miracle of daylight savings, I'm just about to close my eyes in frustrated, exhausted relief (despite the fact that my shift isn't likely to end for three hours yet). And I think to myself, I think
"I know! I'll try out this little vial of awake!"
So I pop the top, duck behind the counter and bottoms up!
It only takes me a second to recoil from the taste. I was about to finish the bottle when I realised, I didn't need to! The minature, foul tasting third I'd imbibed hit me like a triple espresso.
I feel, at this juncture, I should point out something. I've suffered from chronic, cyclic insomnia my entire life. I know the precise feeling of a triple espresso, and can grade it against (A) a quadruple, (B) a quintuple, (C) a minor dose of amphetamines (between A and B, only more nauseating) and various ineffectual energy drinks touting garauna like a college website touts it's lesbian porn.
This was yesterday Clearly, the effect was more longlived than either the espresso or the lesbian porn, as I am still very awake, and not even a smidgen tired. Sleeping pills, warm milk, further lesbian porn all had no effect. As I'm rapidly approaching thirty hours uptime, I feel I should have some small manner of exhaustion. This concerns me, as I'd really quite like to sleep tonight.
American Viewers: AUD$1.50 is approximately USD$1.15
European Viewers: AUD$1.50 is approximately,EUR... well... you got any Roubles?
In the past week, I've had two dreams that I remember. This is fairly significant, as I'm not one for dreaming (recently sleeping's been out too).
Last night (please recall that last night was many, many hours ago), I was twelve, and [DG] & I had a sleepover party. We watched teevee in my auntie's house and camped out in the living room. So far, all my analysis has determined that this means... exactly what?
Prior to last night was more pleasant. Those of you who are profitably promiscuous (for values of profit more esoteric than financial) should be able to recall from personal experience the difference between the two types of good kiss. First, there is the crazy hot, smutty kiss. This curls your toes, loosens your libido, dampens your underwear and causes you to promise all manner of things to your co-labial participant in the intrests of it's continuation, and possible escalations.
The second, and altogether more rare, is the crazy beautiful romantic kiss. You will know them from the fire raining from the sky, the ground melting beneath your feet, and sickening saccharine feelings of ever after welling up out of your chest. I've had, in my life, perhaps five of these. Two were in dreams.
One, most recently, was with a certain lady on my friends list. I'm not offering any clues as to who she was, barring (to quash obvious contextual suspicions) that it was not m'zelle_dictionaire. I'm not in love with the lady in question; I don't even have a crush on her. But I wanted to thank her, albiet unhelpfully obliquely, for a dream of a wonderful moment of hope.
That's all for today, children.
Love and Amphetamine Logic,
J
Post-Scriptum: Exhaustion, and lots of it. Wish me luck, I'm going to bed!
Lipstick, on the windowpane
When the nice lady at the health food store explains that the little vials she's selling at the counter, labled Guarana and costing you a measly $1.50 each, are approximately equivalent to one of those beastly energy drinks or a cup of coffee, you should stab the lying bitch in the face.
So I'm at work, and it's late into the night. Thanks to the miracle of daylight savings, I'm just about to close my eyes in frustrated, exhausted relief (despite the fact that my shift isn't likely to end for three hours yet). And I think to myself, I think
"I know! I'll try out this little vial of awake!"
So I pop the top, duck behind the counter and bottoms up!
It only takes me a second to recoil from the taste. I was about to finish the bottle when I realised, I didn't need to! The minature, foul tasting third I'd imbibed hit me like a triple espresso.
I feel, at this juncture, I should point out something. I've suffered from chronic, cyclic insomnia my entire life. I know the precise feeling of a triple espresso, and can grade it against (A) a quadruple, (B) a quintuple, (C) a minor dose of amphetamines (between A and B, only more nauseating) and various ineffectual energy drinks touting garauna like a college website touts it's lesbian porn.
This was yesterday Clearly, the effect was more longlived than either the espresso or the lesbian porn, as I am still very awake, and not even a smidgen tired. Sleeping pills, warm milk, further lesbian porn all had no effect. As I'm rapidly approaching thirty hours uptime, I feel I should have some small manner of exhaustion. This concerns me, as I'd really quite like to sleep tonight.
American Viewers: AUD$1.50 is approximately USD$1.15
European Viewers: AUD$1.50 is approximately,EUR... well... you got any Roubles?
In the past week, I've had two dreams that I remember. This is fairly significant, as I'm not one for dreaming (recently sleeping's been out too).
Last night (please recall that last night was many, many hours ago), I was twelve, and [DG] & I had a sleepover party. We watched teevee in my auntie's house and camped out in the living room. So far, all my analysis has determined that this means... exactly what?
Prior to last night was more pleasant. Those of you who are profitably promiscuous (for values of profit more esoteric than financial) should be able to recall from personal experience the difference between the two types of good kiss. First, there is the crazy hot, smutty kiss. This curls your toes, loosens your libido, dampens your underwear and causes you to promise all manner of things to your co-labial participant in the intrests of it's continuation, and possible escalations.
The second, and altogether more rare, is the crazy beautiful romantic kiss. You will know them from the fire raining from the sky, the ground melting beneath your feet, and sickening saccharine feelings of ever after welling up out of your chest. I've had, in my life, perhaps five of these. Two were in dreams.
One, most recently, was with a certain lady on my friends list. I'm not offering any clues as to who she was, barring (to quash obvious contextual suspicions) that it was not m'zelle_dictionaire. I'm not in love with the lady in question; I don't even have a crush on her. But I wanted to thank her, albiet unhelpfully obliquely, for a dream of a wonderful moment of hope.
That's all for today, children.
Love and Amphetamine Logic,
J
Post-Scriptum: Exhaustion, and lots of it. Wish me luck, I'm going to bed!
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
I love the opening line, by the way. Yours? If it's a quote, I can't place it.