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Patient number thirty-six: I believe I can best describe her in one word: dull. Incredibly dull. Unbearably dull. Sometimes I feel it would be more exciting to work with someone fully diagnosed with catatonic schizophrenia. Perhaps the worst part is her predictability. Predictable insanity is quite… strenuous. Knowing what a legally insane person is going to do next pulls at you. You begin to think like them, and let me tell you, folks, that’s damn scary. But then again, predictability is what this profession is all about. Oh damn… wondering minds are like untied balloons. The patient’s newest revelation is…
on a lighter note: I really like my new toothbrush. I feel passionately about very few things, but I think my new toothbrush can be one of them. I think I will call it simon, and he'll be my new and bestest friend. Simon and I will share all of our secrets. I can take simon out for walks in the park, and i can take him fishing. He likes fishing. He always talks about how it reminds him of the village where he grew up. And every night before I tuck him in, he will happily clean my teeth.
yeah, what the fuck is up with that??? i'm pretty irate over here. i'm going to have to go to the damned computer labs again? fuck that shit.
.... this painfullly short and to the point email was sent from one person who was being screwed to another person who was being screwed. they were not screwing each other, but being screwed by the same third party, and not in any way that would be deemed pleasant, at least not by any decent member of society, and even indecent members of society would likely find this unpleasant.
Ahhh, brush my teeth, take two tylenol PM and then hit the sack. What a rough day, unbelievable, I tell you. Oh well, don't have to worry about that now. Ahh…. Nothing to worry about but the comfortable pillow. Hmmm… feel a little light headed. Those Tylenol usually don't kick in for at least a half an hour. My heart feels a little strange too… it's beating too slowly. Everything seems hazy. When was the last time I took a breath? Why is my heart beating so slow…. It's so dark… my god, why is my heart beating so slow….
Soccer, I mean, what's the big fucking deal? The only time I've ever watched a game of soccer was when I was in Scotland, and let me tell you, it's not just exaggeration, those crazy bastards go ape-shite for that stuff. Of course I get shit because I like baseball. Sorry, but there's nothing better than an afternoon at the ol' ballpark catching some rays and watching a game. Course, the "ol' ballpark" won't be around much longer (some of you may get this, most won't, I imagine). I had a discussion with a few ladies that I worked with…
…and they just complained about how boring it was, they said it would be better with hand grenades instead of baseballs. I said I guess that might be interesting, but of course any sport could be entertaining with lotsa ‘splosions. Shit, I bet you could even get me to watch tennis if land mines were strategically installed around the court. Well, anyway I think you get the picture, but it is time we moved on to a much more serious subject. That's right, ladies and gents, I'm talking about bocce. Truly it's one of the greatest sports of all time.
Hey all you cool cats and hot kittens. This is Wild Personnel coming back at you. I'm about to shake this shack, so just stay jive and alive, bring it low and let it glow. This next ditty, kitty, is from one deeply cool gent, who goes by the name of mister John Coltrane, and he's going to put a little sunshine ray into your day with Summertime. That's right, smokin' saxes for the masses. Mr. C is laying one hot track, so let's all give a little listen because this is breezing and pleasing, and that's the truth, ruth.
He wasn't sure if he trusted her intentions. It's true that he had known her for quite sometime now, but she had seemed some what devious the last time they had spoken. She said she had some big plans; that they were going to be the talk of the town. Considering he strived for anonymity, he knew that this wasn't up his alley. He had to admit, though, when she asked you to go, you went. God knows what it is about her, but in such matters, he really has no choice. Perhaps it's the way she wears her hair.
Once upon a time, there lived a man who was called… jerry (don't all the names in fairy tales seem to start with a j sometimes?). Jerry was a quiet little man who lived outside of the village. Well, to make a long story short: to save the day, village, and some-what fair maiden, jerry invented the jerry-curl, and they all lived happily every after… Sorry I'm in such a rush, but as I was writing this I couldn't help but wonder if that man standing outside of the sliding glass door staring at me means me bodily harm….. uh-oh.
Ok, so I was sitting in my room listening to a cd from one of my old bands. I guess the nostalgia kicked in, and I felt the urge to write. Dear god what a fun time that was. Young, foolish, and wanting nothing more than to make a little music that would put a smile on a few faces. Admittedly the early stuff wasn't very good, but hey, I wasn't really in the band, just an alternate I guess is what you'd call it, hold a sec, I have to listen to this one, it's one of my favorites.
Guess I had a few more things to say about the band. ‘course I had to wait a day, figure that's time to collect my thoughts, but I was thinking about work most of that time. Anyway, how that band started to come together in the end, it was such a shame that we all had to leave. Did get together on a few occasions to redo some stuff, and actually wrote a new song, but by then, through arguments, people being stupid, and all the rest of the shit, the band was mostly gone… it just wasn't the same.
Just what kind of world are we living in when it's never stars and stripes forever for tom glandice? That's something he wondered every day of his life. All through his life he had been promised things: by friends, family, tv, newspapers, movies. It such a shame to live this age he thought. Bombarded with shitty uplifting crap all the time, the worst part being that you actually expect it to come true after a while, and that's when you become disappointed. Disappointed with what we don't have and what we think we do have. "yeah, this sucks," he said.
How could someone do this? Lately she seemed to be asking this question more often. Oh well, must press on. Cleaning up this sort of thing wasn't really the ideal job, but it sure did pay well. To think that this was nearly a family business! If they could advertise she could just imagine a clown in big floppy shoes picking up the mess that some real freak-show had left behind. He'd have a fake smile, and say, "come on down, fun for the whole family. Even junior can pitch in," as some small child mopped a puddle of blood.
Then John thought about how incredibly morbid people were. Most of them tried to hide it, but everybody had that inquisitive gleam in there eye. Not that John himself was any different. In fact, he believed himself to be worse. He seemed to be tortured with the sheer amount of wonderfully gruesome thoughts that he had everyday. Whenever he looked at something, he couldn't help but think about how it might in some way cause him a horribly painful death. He was comforted by the fact that he never imagined anyone else being hurt. At least he wasn't a psycho.
His stomach was giving him gruff again. "Shit," he muttered. He was too old and this was happening way too often now-a-days for it to be anything normal. Ahhh… if only she were still here. It would have been much easier then. He would have told her and she would have insisted he see the doctor. She would have made him. He still can't find it in himself to go alone. He hates doctors. For someone who always felt sick, this could be a serious problem. How he missed her. He wondered if negligence could be a form of suicide.
Oh fuck. He rolled a two. Why did he have to roll a two? This was bad luck…. really bad. He probably wouldn't get to see the end of this night. How the hell did he get into this situation? Oh, that's right, compulsive gambling, that's how. That's not really important. What is important is the couple of guys sitting here with him ready to break his neck because they know he can't possibly pay this off. Well, maybe he just has a few tricks up his sleeve yet. Yeah, he'll show them something: he doesn't want to die tonight.
How about that time when the small white bunny showed up in front of the big bad bear's cave and asked if the bear had some sugar. He just needed a little sugar for his tea. He had run out and plum forgot to go get some from the store. So, if the bear could spare some he'd greatly appreciate it. Well, this was his lucky day. The bear did indeed happen to have some sugar and didn't mind sharing some. So the bunny invited the bear over for some tea, and he gladly came, with the sugar of course.
What? Did you think the story was setting up the bunny for some great misfortune? That the message would be not to trust some one called the "big bad bear". Or that I would explain just how the fuck a bunny makes tea, or how he gets sugar from a store. Well, shame on you, you sick bastards. Everybody just needs a cup of tea now and then. I don't necessarily put sugar in mine, but live and let live! God forbid the bunny has a bit of a sweet tooth. I'm fed up with the whole lot of you.
Well, this ended up a lot worse than he thought it was going to. He certainly wouldn't be able to explain this to his wife. That got him thinking about exactly who would explain this to her, and how they would do it. Probably some police officer, perhaps a detective. Might as well be the mayor of the intergalactic people's village of quasar for all he would know. Uh oh, he was rambling now… panic, yeah, going to panic very soon. Screaming and pleading, and then perhaps trying to make a deal. Who wouldn't do the same in his position?
Wacky wall crawler spiderman was a very cool toy. All the others were jealous of his daring acrobatics: flipping down the surface of a glass door, but always managing to catch on with a hand or a foot. Jealousy soon bred resentment and the color changing hulk began to hatch a plot to put the wacky wall crawler out of his wacky wall crawling misery. He had found the perfect patsy: the chilly willy ice cube maker. The next time that red freak was thrown up onto a non-porous surface he'd have one hell of a surprise coming to him.
I can't understand why more people don't really like transformers. I really like transformers. Come on, think about it: what if your car turned into a giant robot who would fight other giant robots. Of course then you would have to worry about Starscream being all bad-ass and pulling a strafing run on your house. And Starscream would too. He's one crazy mo-fo. I wish that whenever I had a plan, I had somebody like Starscream around so that when anybody asked what it was, he say, "Who cares what it is, you just know it's going to be evil."
Because, let's face it, ladies and gents, being evil is what I'm really all about. I'm not talking about that overtly psychotic blow yourself up while on a bus full of nuns with puppies and kittens on their laps sort of evil. I'm talking about the sly behind the scenes evil genius who always manages to make an escape to plot another dastardly deed. Actually, when I think about it, the perfect mix of the two would have to be the Joker. Of course, I'm opposed to being thrown in a vat of chemicals, so I could never be him.
I really must apologize for all of the superhero, supervillian, and comic book references lately. Quite frankly, I don't know what has gotten into me. It could be that new marvel clicks game, but I only played once, and it was just an ok game. It would have been more fun had I actually owned my own pieces, but life's not fair. The funniest thing about that game is that they actually have "thugs" and "henchman". That must be really embarrassing to have to go home and tell you parents that you have a nine to five as "street punk".
I don't care what you say. I'm going to watch reruns of eighties cartoons and that's final. And there is no way you can ever argue that there are any better cartoons than eighties cartoons. Well, ok you got me there. That is a pretty good one. But you have to admit that most cartoons today are just crap. What do you mean they're not targeted to my age group? Most jokes in cartoons go way over the heads of little kids. Now I'm simple minded am I? I'll simple mind you, when I put my foot through your tv.
Instead of violence, I propose we turn to science. We could turn your thoughts into mine and then we could be pilots, and fly through times long ago, when plants were mindless on another planet. I'm sure we could find it, because even in space there's a sign that says, "you are here, and this is where outta to be". It's possible that we would agree, even though we're going from point C to point B. It seems that backwards is the new way see, into the past and into the future, so you better pack those bags of yours.
She used to drive down that road late at night. She would drive at least 15 mph over the speed limit down that curvy road with the brights on. All the while, The Doors would be playing quite loudly on the stereo. Most times she didn't pay that much attention to the music, but it was almost always necessary to have something going in the background, and if you were going to have something, well then there's nothing better than The Doors. She would do this several times a week. It was one of the few things that relaxed her.
I wish I could write something about those that inspire me. Those that mean so much to me, I don't know what I'd do with out them. I want to let them know how cool they are. These people really help me on a day to day basis, more than they'll ever know. Alas, self expression has never been, and probably never will be my forte. I just hope that they know how I feel about them. I want to thank them for having faith in me. Faith is a great thing, something I need to come to terms with.
You were scared weren't you? I was scared as well, frightened in fact. I had never been so close to anyone in my entire life. Love? We were young and foolish. We hadn't a clue. But it was good, and it was fun. The time before last, though, that was real, almost unbearably so. I know I screwed up, but it wasn't much. Still you pushed me away… maybe I did the same. I have a bad habit of that. I was angry, am still… may always be. The worst part is that I still miss you. That's what hurts.
So I had an interesting conversation with an old friend the other day. It was about our failed attempts at relationships. Although hers are a bit different than mine as she has been swinging towards the other team lately. Still, people are people. We concluded that we both have the same problem, in that we view and act towards all potential relationships with the mentality of a middleschooler. I have been well aware of this for quite some time, but it's nice to hear that I'm not alone. We have some issues to work through together, between us and others.
Still, I wonder if she took it seriously. I was sincere about it. One of the few times in my life were I have been forward with somebody. Yet, I knew that it was really a bust, and maybe that's why I had the courage. I saw her a few days after, and she seemed really cool. Nothing was mentioned of course. She probably thinks I don't even remember doing it. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment, and I enjoy making a fool of myself. I hope she knows I meant it when I asked her that.
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