One would imagine that this is just another stage in the process. One would hope, anyway, because this is not a colour that I wear well.
It feels like my brain has opened up a club, a very exclusive and swank spot called Club Tolerance, and has posted the biggest, baddest dude in the universe to play bouncer at the door. And you know? The guy? He's doing his job! He's doing his job so well that nothing gets let into Club Tolerance anymore, which will probably shut the place down, bring down the neighbourhood, and that whole part of my brain will wither and start to smell.
Have a heart; my metaphor muscle needs stretching. Regardless, it's true.
Things, people, sounds, songs... That INXS tune about being bathed in blue. Hummers! One of my neighbors bought a bright yellow Hummer, and I'm so close to fire-bombing it, I can't even tell you. Everything. Everything and anything that used to vaguely irritate me, that used to only niggle that spot I keep in the back of my mind so that I don't sink into complete petulance... all those little things in life that only bother me if I really choose to pay attention now fill me with an anger so vile and acidic that the inside of my scull just may be starting to rust.
My need to spend money in past months made me turn my back on my beloved rolls of film, so that now I have this bloody digital camera which is supposed to be A Good Solid Product, and it's got 5 megawatsits and I have a memory card that's supposed to hold your life and mine on it before I have to purge anything and so look at me, all down with technology and finally joining this goddamn century with my camera except that there's a delay that my other, old-fashioned, perfectly acceptable camera did not have and aside from making this one long goddamn sentence, I now miss shots that I didn't used to miss and it makes me very, very angry.
The laptop I bought only last April has been crashing regularly every 20 minutes since December, which makes me want to throw it out the window, but only if I can be assured of it's hitting somebody upon landing. I'd throw it at that stupid yellow Hummer, except the damn thing deserves a more dignified death than that. A gig of ram is a gig of ram, after all.
And that Keanu person... that guy... Johnny Fever or whatever the new Hutchence is calling himself... well, he can just bite me.
Club Tolerance is open for business, and nobody is getting in. Also? I hate what you’re wearing.
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