I can't stop sleeping. It's really, really bad. I'm a morning person, typically. There is something deeply satisfying about rising early and having the entire day stretched out lazily before you. But lately, I've been waking up at 7:00, and then going back to sleep until noon. This is absolutely unacceptable. I think I'm in love. Not with anyone in particular, but just...in love. I'm trying to make this post longer so that the placement of my picture is effective. After this sentence, I will type out random thoughts in the order they occur. Please feel free to disregard them. I want to take karate lessons. I miss Hey Arnold. I think I'm addicted to casinos. I love my mother. And my dog. There is a cartoon dressed as a pork chop on television. I love storms, and I've always secretly wanted to be trapped inside my basement during a tornado. I want to move to Montana. My floor is littered with pens that sport the names of pills people take. In a calculated murder of minutes, I point to the clock, so we smash it.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I can't stop sleeping. It's really, really bad. I'm a morning person, typically. There is something deeply satisfying about rising early and having the entire day stretched out lazily before you. But lately, I've been waking up at 7:00, and then going back to sleep until noon. This is absolutely unacceptable. I think I'm in love. Not with anyone in particular, but just...in love. I'm trying to make this post longer so that the placement of my picture is effective. After this sentence, I will type out random thoughts in the order they occur. Please feel free to disregard them. I want to take karate lessons. I miss Hey Arnold. I think I'm addicted to casinos. I love my mother. And my dog. There is a cartoon dressed as a pork chop on television. I love storms, and I've always secretly wanted to be trapped inside my basement during a tornado. I want to move to Montana. My floor is littered with pens that sport the names of pills people take. In a calculated murder of minutes, I point to the clock, so we smash it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Hmmm... You always did strike me as an earlier sort.
Myself, I have trouble getting up. And going to sleep. It's mostly abject depression and the fact that I'm trapped at home with little to do most days. My school, work, etc is in the evening, so I'm just night-oriented.
Be in love. With the world. With existence. With everything.
Karate Lessons? Hm. That's surprising. Cool.
Hey Arnold! I knew as soon as I saw that picture. That show was great. I can't really remember it much... It's just a giant mess of awesome!
Please don't be addicted to casinos. Please. Please. I've seen enough lives damaged because of it.
Basement in a tornado? Cool. Can I join you?
Montana? Why Montana? (No problem with that, I'm just curious).
Pens with the names of pills: That's always disturbed me. I can't really say we.
"In a calculated murder of minutes, I point to the clock, so we smash it." Good. Clocks are depressing. Even though I find a well made clock to be beautiful.
Anyhow...
Well, that's that.
Thanks for the post! Keep writing!
Post a Comment