Wednesday November 13th, 2002 - 01:16

I know I'm breaking whatever sort of ritual I had going by writing something once a month. I mean, it's not the 23rd, or the 24th, or whatever day it is I usually write this stuff. But still, I felt almost obligated to not make sense in public once more.

If we measure how my life is going in months, you could probably take the past few and just delete them. Or minimize them. Or whatever. They're all pretty much the same. Make money. Spend money. Stress about money. Et cetera.

I seem to be on this neverending cycle of going:

"Fuck! No, wait, okay, I've got it . . . Wait, no. Fuck!"

Mom, I'll stop swearing when I get my goddamned banana bread.

So I'm at this point where I look around and I have lots of things to do, but my recently de-caffinated self has pretty much made me useless. I'm still wonderfully adept at fucking off, because really, talent like this has taken me years to build. But everything else seems to escape me.

It's difficult to gain the motivation to, say, take a shower, when you can barely make the loud noise in your head stop long enough to remember what goddamned day it is.

Speaking of which, what day is it?

Oh right. Tuesday. I worked at 11AM today, which would normally be considered beyond insane, but since we've been tapping the beyond insane well a little more than usual, we may as well just consider it normal.

Because normal is what things are when you're used to them being ridiculously insane.

That's what normal is, right? It's familiarity. Once you get used to something, it's normal. Before that? Abnormal. Or anti-normal. Or whatever.

So I guess you can say I'm used to it. But I guess you can also say Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers.

Really, you can say whatever the hell you damned well please. This is my goddamned monologue and noone's listening to you.

Got me?

Now stop hogging the spotlight.

So the point is . . . well okay I had no point. Wait no. Normality. Okay so we'll now alter our perception of normal and make it "familiar". Not like the little black cats that witches have, or demons or whatever. But when you become used to something. Familiar. I am familiar with my face. My face is normal.

I am familiar with my insanity.

My insanity is normal.

Am I even allowed to used the word familiar in that context? It seems inappropriate.

Maybe that's why they invented the word normal.

Okay. So. If you're a deer, right? And you're running across a highway? Don't. Seriously. You'll get hit by a car.

I don't know what your deal is. Didn't mom tell you this? My mom told me not to cross the damned street at night. Especially highways. In front of cars moving very quickly. Like my own car. Which doesn't make sense because I can't get hit by my own car because I'd be driving it. So I'd have to get hit by someone else's car, or I'd have to hit something else in my car.

Oh, that's right. A deer. Stupid deer.

When I was driving to Seattle, and even back from Seattle, I saw lots and lots of signs about deer. I slowed down and always thought about what it would be like if one of those little bambi relatives ventured forth onto intersate 90 for a little fisticuffs with me and my finely engineered german automobile. I even saw many deer dead on the side of the road. And even a few live, just sort of watching me go by as if to say "well fuck that. that's a GTI. we don't want to dent that one."

For some reason the deer in Massachusetts don't seem so considerate.

And let me tell you, thinking about hitting a deer is one thing. Actually dodging one deer and then hitting another is a completely different story.

I'm beginning to the think the universe is trying to seperate my soulmate and I. Throwing things in our path. Literally. Like, well. Yeah. Deer.

So yeah. Watch out for those deer.

And if you're a deer. Listen to your mother.

Or ask her to make you banana bread.

I'll end this particular session with this simple question:

What do I need to do?


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