How much do I miss thee? You have no idea. Perhaps you do.
I’m very clean right now. I should get like a community service reward for being this clean. Freshly. ‘scaped below the belt, and above. Feels like nummy. Two layers of wool, one quite recently acquired. I have a load of laundry in right now, but I didn’t do the sheets yet. I gotta re-make that bed better, though. Needs a floater layer under the wool. Something. Under woolies is dirtbag, long sleeved puppy under that. Hottest chunk of manflesh this side of n. Holy fuck, my body is beautiful. Like, it brings a tear to my eye when I actually look at it in a mirror.
Watching the squirrel video. (5:50 pm)
5:58. Well, it’s not my best work, but I laughed a few times. I speak to all the little animals. They get excited at first, but then they get used to me, and then they go away.
They’re all salvageable as parts. You just have to be willing and able to physically separate the components and classify/organize them by usage and frequency. Like with like. But, the computer shop is the bike shop is the auto shop.
I feel like Cinderella or Rapunzel or some shit. If anyone thinks they actually give a fuck about me or my life, now would be a good time to actually do something about it.
Maybe that’s the key, isn’t it. They don’t. None of them. I know it’s more that they don’t know how, but they know how.
I looked at the scale, and depending on the corrections (96% at 150?) I’m one hundred and fifty one pounds. One-fifty-one. The scale isn’t altogether reliable, as I could make my weight shift between 154 and 158 by rocking toe to heel, regardless, it’s close to that. I bet my body fat is low single digits. I’ve been whipping large chunks of house around in various circular motions for a long time now. Typing exhausts.
Sleep soon. Laundry first. Long live the circle pit!
My new wood pyramid thing has a lot going on, grain-wise.
I took kind of a lot off my beard. I just shaped it, pulled in the outliers. She’s more aerodynamic. And yes, I know that it’s weird that my beard is a she. Deal.
But seriously, the fucking pube’-cut I gave myself woulda made a porn star proud. It’s just another carving. Why am I not shaved regularly, braided and henna’d daily? Can you not see how beautiful this rough-cut diamond is? Who am I kidding, rough cut. My stare cuts glass as of years ago. The powerful quake, mock, plagiarize, and hate. For what is power lust but hate?
Shit. I need a working wifi computer. Fuck.
I need a dvorak teaching program, too. I found my old labeler, so I could redo the keys. It’s old-school, press-into-plastic, credit-card style labelers, though, so the keys would be bumpy. Maybe I could just rearrange ‘em. That would be fun. On my desktop, if I still have a desktop. Why would I not. Never mind.
It doesn’t matter. It just means a slight delay in when you get to read this. Sorry you’re not up on the real-time me. Buy me a computer. Send me a dollar. Whatever.
Corn huskers hand lotion seems to work pretty well. I been in rough shape here for a while. Sawdust will take a lot of liquid out of you.
I want to watch some aqua teen, but I got no webbage. This sucks. I just squashed a box elder bug with an Unprotected Sex CD. Cool.
Not web page, that’s probably still up. I just have no way to look at any of it. I mean, there’s an Ethernet cord sitting coiled and ready to strike at the back of this desk, but no luck. I should go get a carload of my shit from point. The driveway has 8 inches of snow. Maybe tomorrow I will return to retrieve computer and assorted assundries. Maybe not.
That pinched blister that swelled up to the point of throbbing (I pierced/drained it to relieve pressure), twice, is healing nicely under gloves. Perhaps my guitarist hands are intact under there after all. There’s another sound that is their highest purpose. (–O.O-)
I don’t even have girls to listen to. Well, on the twitters, but I can’t hear them right now, so I’m stuck with me. I think I may have a recording from casey, but that, depending on which one it is, will probably make me cum twice. Where are the real girls in this town who like ambitiously nimble finger, tongue, and cock delivery people who are addicted to the sound of orgasms. Yes, again. Yes, already. I told you, once it’s here, we don’t really lose it. I know. Lucky you. Or, unlucky you for not being here, or for not helping me get there, or know where there is, or who you are, for that matter.
Mye deluzzshuns are boring me tonight. Food, perhaps? And more water, then some sleeps.
Pretty much that, yup. Dope bean patties with ginger sauce supa’ da’ lish. It’s 7:51 pm, and I’m about to crash. Either I’m just really exhausted or that got some kinda sleepy drug innit. Maybe that’s just the music, and/or meds. I don’t have any idea how to help myself. Everything I need now is the assistance of other people. Coach used to say, “I can’t want it for you!” or shoulda. Whatever. I got enough happy sounds on this laptop, even without a network, to keep me busy and occupied for days.
Whenever my shit just stops working, imexxpliickably, I am always smh’ing my head to the music, and I’m all eyeroll, “oh, the man. Y u no lemmy talkit me fr’ends. Talkit, lookit, listen’ta. It’s realer than real.
I figure Microsoft has back-doors to kill shit from windows, so it’s all an illusion of self-control, anyway. All you can do is keep the processor cycles free for when you need ‘em. Electrical rotations. Electrons. How is sanding a small pyramid on a palm sander not a workout? My fucking arms feel like they’re going to fall off, melt into the fllooorrrr. My ability to concatenate onna topic orson-bject is incurable! Adorable. No, not that. Grubby. Ratty. ‘Cept clean as a whistle and cool as a cucumber. Cool. Cool yer jets! I’m a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker, motherfucker! I’m superfly tnt. Every time my fingers touch, brain.
She could talk to squirrels.
I’mma go watch my videos. That will make me happy. It did. I like my videos. I think they’re pretty. I’m deliriously tired. I’m just sitting here because the Baths are frightfully beautiful and I have to make my bed over there. Work. It’s 8:55 pm.
Tears. I was just thinking about making dinner during a cold winter like this, sitting down to eat with the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family, eating the healthiest food I could imagine to feed them.
I should get my laundry. It should be dry by now.