I look at the first one and tell myself I do not want this. And the next, and the next.
Even if we ignore the fact that it's something that I can not have, I would like to tell myself that I do not want it.

I want to be on the more obtuse plane because when this mood prevails, I'm simply more comfortable there. I'm still thinking of practical things, consequences.
----

She was talking to him and I don't think he could tell the tone of her voice. It was a lot softer than he imagined. She was genuinely trying to talk to him. The message was taken as something a lot more regular and insignificant than it was meant to have been.
--------

Today we are invincible : D

My Yahoo works again.
I wouldn't know what else to say. Things are .. thick. Lumpy, goopy thick. I miss L.

Febrile

I could spend forever doing nothing. Right now my sense of significance is high, so I won’t say anything about that. This is a version of my bulletproof. I’m ill so I sleep a lot. My medication makes me do so. These semi-drugged, sleep clogged days are a very different kind of respite. While I’m awake I’m not obliged to do anything. My studies are suffering tremendously but my pattern of studying is such that unless I want to study, I simply won’t. While I’m awake I can *listen* to music, which I haven’t been doing for a while, music had been background noise. I’m reading a paragraph or so every three hours, sleeping in the middle or just playing with M where my mind just zones out. I’m very conscious of my body, which at the moment feels abused, tired and dirty; quite literally worn out. I’m sleeping so much because it feels like my body actually needs to sleep. Every time I wake up after a three hour nap I don’t feel refreshed, I feel a little better, a little more real and the need for more after a while. I feel like smoking. While I’m asleep my mind is over stimulated for whatever reason and my sleep is fitful but deep. There are too many images there, random plots which make little sense but involve frenzied activity. And when I wake up my skin feels cool invariably (I sleep in my sweatshirt under my quilt with fever). Now if I only had that fever pome Rohit wrote on the spot.

There is no God.

The lot of you still writing to me on Yahoo, please stop it. I have 6 messages there I won't be able to get at till my new computer gets here. And then my Ipod shall be functional. YAY !!
But on a slightly different, makes the bile reach the tip of my tongue note they gave Jamie Foxx the Oscar. There is no God. I have nothing to say on this issue.
Good night and may you all burn in a sick, pink plasticky hell.

Selfish September

Selfish September by P-Man

spit on me
bite me
slap me
spank me and call me ur whore
you are my big momma
i'll bend over to please u
lick u everywhere
leave behind ur teethings
tie me
whip me
but i will not share my ice cream with you.

The song Move on by A Clockwork Orange is quite awesome.