ok ok ok ok ok ok
i'm sick of being sick of being sick. it's sunday nite and i am bouncing off of the walls trying to figure out how i'm gonna fall asleep tonite. i feel like going to get ben & jerrys right now...everyone in my house has gone to bed except fer me and this is when i really can start doing horrible things to myself. like styx said, i've got too much time on my hands.
or i could make a call and bring on the coma.
or i could play my fucking guitar for another 6 hours.
i've been terribly uncreative recently. the only thing i've been good for is spinning dark, honest, semi-funny-when- it-isn't-sad sarcasm into every half-assed conversation that i couldn't avoid with whomever i've spoken to in the last few days. i was in bklyn last nite with some friends i hadn't seen in a while. they were all mad at me for disappearing and being unavailable.
i've got a ton of crap to deal with, bills to pay, but they're just not going to get done. 15 dates for my band to play, but gawd i can barely find the energy to get up long enough to call the fast food delivery guy and eat. i can eat, tho. been doing a lot of that.
my phone messages have been piling up. a friend from l.a. called, which i avoided, and left a message that said "hey - just call my voicemail service. you don't have to talk to me personally, just let me know yr alive."
my father called me, too. his message was less direct, but just as powerful: "hey it's yr old man...a few things since we last spoke: i got laid off last week and yr mom's filing for a divorce...". yeah, right. that's my dad's lingo for "call us, asshole."
and i know this isn't new news to anybody, but it's too friggin cold to do anything. so i hibernate. like a big, fat hypersensitive avoidant lazy sarcastic underacheiving cerebral worrying grizzly bear, devoid of any pleasure or pain... other than the dull ache of boredom and time's slow passing.
and it's not even monday, really.
oh, yeah. i just remembered - i did get out enough to see the john currin (& his naked bea arthur painting), arshile gorky, and jay defeo (amazing) exhibits at the whitney on friday. those were great. really great. especially jay defeo, and her unbelievable works, "the eyes", and "the rose", a painting layered with so much paint that it weighs over a ton - and which ultimately led to her own demise. sound intriguing? go see em while they're still there...only a few more days for jay defeo.
ok back to being pathetic. waaa. leave me alone.
i'm sick of being sick of being sick. it's sunday nite and i am bouncing off of the walls trying to figure out how i'm gonna fall asleep tonite. i feel like going to get ben & jerrys right now...everyone in my house has gone to bed except fer me and this is when i really can start doing horrible things to myself. like styx said, i've got too much time on my hands.
or i could make a call and bring on the coma.
or i could play my fucking guitar for another 6 hours.
i've been terribly uncreative recently. the only thing i've been good for is spinning dark, honest, semi-funny-when- it-isn't-sad sarcasm into every half-assed conversation that i couldn't avoid with whomever i've spoken to in the last few days. i was in bklyn last nite with some friends i hadn't seen in a while. they were all mad at me for disappearing and being unavailable.
i've got a ton of crap to deal with, bills to pay, but they're just not going to get done. 15 dates for my band to play, but gawd i can barely find the energy to get up long enough to call the fast food delivery guy and eat. i can eat, tho. been doing a lot of that.
my phone messages have been piling up. a friend from l.a. called, which i avoided, and left a message that said "hey - just call my voicemail service. you don't have to talk to me personally, just let me know yr alive."
my father called me, too. his message was less direct, but just as powerful: "hey it's yr old man...a few things since we last spoke: i got laid off last week and yr mom's filing for a divorce...". yeah, right. that's my dad's lingo for "call us, asshole."
and i know this isn't new news to anybody, but it's too friggin cold to do anything. so i hibernate. like a big, fat hypersensitive avoidant lazy sarcastic underacheiving cerebral worrying grizzly bear, devoid of any pleasure or pain... other than the dull ache of boredom and time's slow passing.
and it's not even monday, really.
oh, yeah. i just remembered - i did get out enough to see the john currin (& his naked bea arthur painting), arshile gorky, and jay defeo (amazing) exhibits at the whitney on friday. those were great. really great. especially jay defeo, and her unbelievable works, "the eyes", and "the rose", a painting layered with so much paint that it weighs over a ton - and which ultimately led to her own demise. sound intriguing? go see em while they're still there...only a few more days for jay defeo.
ok back to being pathetic. waaa. leave me alone.
2. if you can't find her, call me if you need to. maybe i'll check up on you anyway - you have my number so you can ignore my call too, right?
3. dare i ask? anything actually scripted for you or all home delivery?
i want mittens!!
i hope yr feeling better, sweetness!!
i've been doing that "im gonna stay home cos its too cold thing" as well. tho it might be a little different if i had a car or something. but i dont and i'm not to fond of frost bite