SATURDAY, MARCH 22nd, 2008
(Thank You Bernie Taupin and Elton John for "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word"*.)
THE SAD, SCARY STUPID thing and all about any thing and every thing is that I don’t even have my phone on that much and when I do there’s not so many calls coming in or for that matter, going out. Just a few people is all. That is all.
Don’t need to text much. My email is of junk mostly, in my in-box as well as the junk file. There’s crap of/off some friends from way far away and they’re usually discussing or linking stuff I don’t know, think, or, care about, usually; and can’t do much about any thing any way, any how. So, what does it fucking matter? Not much. Not much at all.
STUPID THING IS, I guess that by my ability or possibility if I get super mobile and connected with all the bells and whistles I think are important, and are of what most ads and manufacturers and suppliers and liars of service say they have for one and all; that, when/if I get that, I’ll be able to BE that. The busy guy with the unit electronica and making it happen. Blogging and Emailing and Texting and Calling and moving the universe, multi-verse, whatever, what have you. STUPID!
My head is itching something fierce. My head has red spots on it in back and on top near the hairline in front and it will get worse. The spots on my fingers are still around as are the ones on my elbows which is/was what started it all in my latter years as an adult in what some times of stress? What, Me Worry? Why?
As a kid, perhaps an infant, I had this. My folks put socks on my hands. Changed my drinking to Goat's Milk. Did that do it? I don't really drink milk much. I can't eat ice cream. I had a milk like drink today...but, it's not why the sores appear at all, really, is it? Chocolate? Caffiene? I do do that. Caffiene. It gets me going keeps me up past 2 AM like it is now on this dark cold morning of Saturday....Friday Night for some....still....like me...on line down stairs till my laptop/mouseshit began giving me problems....and I got tired of it. I'm still burning with energy and I had that bit at the beginning to say and got on line to look stuff up about authors and then the books and but it was all after the stuff with the Sunglasses I looked up. Fucker. I gave them my home number. I don't believe I did that before, eh? I don't like that idea. Shit. I won't know what to...TUESDAY? The sunglasses not very good ones, they won't be around then any way. They're going to be all sold out. That's when they'll call to tell me that the site which is notorious for not including a indicator and no one can contact any one who can find out, if they're mirror finish on the front of the lens as you're looking at the person wearing them. I can't wear them at work if they are, and I'm looking of course for sunglasses that I can wear at work.
I'd picked up a couple today already when I went in for bleach and got some cleaner and maybe I'll get the bathroom cleaned for once...damn thing hasn't been looked at or serviced save the toilet in months and I mean MONTHS! It's pathetic. I don't have a brain for it. I don't have a muscle. I don't have any thing. I don't know at all what's "WRONG". I really can't say. It's not for me to say any way I don't figure. People who are fucked can't diagnose, can they? The phrase is "SELF-DIAGNOSE", right? Whatever. What-ever!
The glasses are cheap, plastic, bright as hell to look through...I want some DARK fricken lenses. I want not to have to go to an Eye Doctor to get them. I want something like they used when we shot stuff at Loyola, ND 9, for Neutral Density #9 strength, which is a hell of a dark glass. And Polarizer. And I'd like to have GLASS, not plastic. I also want that flat blue glare reduction coating on the inside as I look out. I want this glass thin and the frames thus too. Opaque frames. Not shiny metal. I want rubber nose pads off the frames. It's not so hard to imagine or get or do, you know? Something sensible, round-ish I suppose. But square will do. Dark fucking GREEN if I can get it. DARK!