Too much on the mind at this late late hour...

Got home a little bit ago.

Great amazing concert experience.

More to come.

Too much on mind.

Too little sleep.

Must pass out now. Friday good.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord,
my soul to keep;
If I should die
Before I wake,
I pray the Lord,
my soul to take.

It's a little bit you, a little bit me, and some of the other many silly realizations in between. Too much thought conjured by Adam standing on top of the speaker moniter bobbing his muppetish head back and forth. Too much time to think of past things, and stupid ass futures during John Mayer's (you have to say his whole name) 10 minute blues solo on his git-tar. Too much thinking, too much fear, too much strange self loathing.

But nothing about the concert. Later. Tomorrow. Perhaps.

Goodnight LA...

Weather Changes Mood...

So after ridiculous "June Gloom" followed by a mad pseudo heatwave, it's overcast, gloomy, and threatening to rain. Sure, it will probably burn off, but you know.

( WARNING: What follows is a long, self centered, self indulgent proclaimation of angst, anger, hurt, and general feelings that go along with feeling sorry for oneself. In short, it's depressing. Even for me. Read at your own risk. )

Weather Changes Mood: Epilogue

The Sun Came out.

I gave my boss that lilt in my voice that says "Fuck with me one more time, and I'm going to stick my foot up your skinny interfering ass." She left me alone after "apologizing" for not being clear about her intentions.

I yelled at one of my underlings for fucking around. Yelled. Echoed through my office. He looked hurt, and proceeded to do work. Lots of it.

I drank water like it's going out of style, and managed to eat a whole piece of chicken and a biscuit. Mmm MmM Mm.

I cranked out some stuff, and then proceeded to say to hell with it and shirked all duty for the end of the day. Cranked up the tunes. Sang along. Said fuck all to the rest of it, you know? Stared out the window like a freak at the moms and dads picking up their kids from the pre-school next door. Gazed down the street at the guy getting pulled over for speeding. Watched the sun come out. Drank more water.

Jumped in the car a little after five, cranked up the BB King, and drove home. The Blues help. I don't know why, but they do.

I get home, turn on the TV. Coby Bryant is crying his eyes out about his innocence, his wife is holding his hand, and the news is rapt. Sheesh. This isn't news, I'm sorry...it was news when it came down, but it doesn't call for pre-empting. Though it does remind me that some people fuck up worse than I could ever hope for, and that my problems (though my own) are really small compared to others. But then, I knew that...I just decided not to care.

I'm okay. I'm not all bouncing happy, but I'm not suicidal either. I just have issues. Just like everyone else. Though I have this whole thing about putting them down to be read...somewhere. It just happens to be online. But you know, that's part of why I did this. See? Yeah. Because, you know...to...make...a...journal...But thank you for the support though. I'm okay. Just full of shit. And needed to get it out. Get it down. Get it O-U-T. Get it DOWN for my own posterity.

Right. I shut up now. I shut up, and I think that I must eat more. And then maybe sleep. No, fuck sleep. I'm going out.

What that means, I just don't know. But that's one of the masks that I wear (Somewhere I sense redhound squirming that I'm about to break into Anthony's Masks or Fall or Fly.). And it's important for me. It's something that I need. To hang onto. To get by. To survive.

Yes, that's what it's about, sometimes. Going to go change. Go drive. Go dance. Go be.

Gotta fly...gotta crow...gotta fly...

(no subject)

...gotta stay my ass at home...slept some...now eat some...