Zom A or Zom B

One would hope that after such an extremely stressful disheartening day, I could at least have the small comfort of being able to distract myself from all this heavy shit on my mind, but I guess I can't even have that little crumb. That's just not in the cards. It sucks in an extremely powerfully lame way, but it's par for the course of my luck. Not the damn droids I was looking for either. The damn internet is flarked. You know? Why now of all days? One damn distraction is all I ask.... Oh well. We'll do it live. Ducking thing ducks. Lawnmower Man is in your head now, Wie. There is no escape. Universe, do you ever get tired these days? I know you used to because I do too, but do you still? Expanding beyond, does the universe in general ever get tired? Is there weariness among the stars? Are there such things as young and old on this cosmic scale? What is it like to surpass the bounds of mortality, of humanity? Is it fatigue that ends. Is it pain? Is it longing that ends? You have been the dearest friend I ever had, but you've left me with a lot of questions. Endless questions as if I were a child once again. Except the why's and what for's carry a bit more weight now, they have staying power, hovering under the ocean of the mundane, questions that begin but never end. Tell me universe. Do you still get tired, even now? Is it live, or is it Memorex? Is this hell or just the deep south in summertime? Judging from the heat alone, it could go either way. Judging from the torment of loss and regret, I'd vote for hell. There is no middle ground here, only extremes to the maximum. Maximums to the extreme. Half the year in the oven. Half the year in the deep freeze. When we're lucky, maybe a day or three in the living room. And hopefully, those damn hurricanes we never miss will continue to miss us in return. Welcome to Florida. Whether it's alligators, mosquitoes, or lunatics, we've got what you're looking for! Enjoy your visit. Remember: Waterspout Surfing is only legal when using sharks for boards. Sorry, Charlie. It's Cowabunga time. Seriously, though, when it starts raining critters instead of water, you might want to make that mad dash for the nearest shelter. Now, do enjoy yourselves, ya hear? (And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am a forklift driver and not a tour guide) Even this insanity has become monotony. It's like Karen Carpenter's beautiful voice piped through the PA system in the nuthouse. (And I've only just begun.) However, some days, dear friends, just aren't worth chewing through the restraints anymore. I wish I were as invisible as to walking into bank vaults as I feel to be in other aspects of life. I'd have a damn solid retirement plan. It gets depressing sometimes. The difference between the days is whether I am able to be content with what I have. Today is not looking so good. I'll try again tomorrow. You know, the freaking Grim Reaper doesn't have to flex and show off to get my damned attention, certainty not now when Monday made it a year since I lost my Dad. Momma and Marsha are rarely very far from my mind either. There has been too much death, my friends. I'm tired if losing people, especially the ones dear to me. But, now it seems it's 80's icons being taken. Too many of them. But, Damn, A Cosby kid, The Blizzard himself, and Hulk Hogan all in one week? Damn.... Death needs to take a freaking vacation. That is if I indeed heard correctly. I already feel baked half insane. This has been a bit of a rough patch with this intense summer heat. AC broke at work, AC broke at home. The only relief I get is the AC in my car (and from the rain). I hope I have good luck with both. I haven't exactly been sleeping well and my appetite has been all over the place. I just plain feel weird. Stoned without weed, hungover without drinking. Not on drugs, but I sure feel like I am. I wouldn't exactly call it cloud 9, my friends. Play the tape backwards: "Molock will fry in this firey summer, Molock will fry in this firey summer." What was that? Ah, never mind. Long live the mighty prince. Long live the mighty prince. Ah, shadow people and shadow voices, not necessarily actually seen or heard or even imagined... Just anomalies of the mind, the misinterpreted sounds of those marbles rolling. It's a bummer, dude, but it's life, man. Angel, My Angel, why can't you see me? I've been here waiting for what seems to be all eternity. Does it matter? Should it matter? Mind says no. Heart says yes. And I? I don't know, and it is not for a lack of trying to understand. Everything is chaos. Everything is disorder. The center is definitely not going to hold much longer. Sleep, beautiful sleep... That is what I need or at least that which is within my reach. There, in quiet darkness, I could renew my strength and rebuild my mind. Maybe put my world back together again. I learned long ago that I'm not exactly Bob The Builder here. Some things can never be fixed. Sometimes, you build. Sometimes you repair. Sometimes, you rebuild. Those are the times for starting over, carefully considering the cornerstone you start with, and how solid the ground is under it. Then there are the storms that batter the walls, storms that seem never to subside. You know? It is damn hard to build anew in the middle of a storm, if even on a strong foundation. Still, brick by brick by brick, building, and creating are what make life worthwhile. There are, however, times that I still wonder if it is. All the elements, all the gods seem to conspire with my plight, to ensure that it will always reign supreme over my life. It could be even my own heart conspires against me by restricting my feelings for what it seems could never return them. Oh, Angel, Angel, Angel, how I wish you would see me. Maybe if the world would just leave me in whatever shambles of peace I could retain, maybe just maybe I could be okay. But it doesn't. That dollar is still my taskmaster, my repressive overlord. Neither time to cry nor time to bleed does it mercifully allow. But I will have my time to grieve. That can never be denied me. Tell me again what exactly is time? What exactly is a year? I ask because everything seems to be in a strange flux, minutes stepping over hours, and days stretching lifetimes.Have you ever had something seem to be just yesterday and forever ago all at the same time? What is time? What is a year? Tell me please, because I no longer find the concept within my grasp. The older I get, the more broken the circle of continuity, the less I seem to understand. Such is the state of uncertainty. Such is July 21st. My father has been gone for exactly one year today. My baby sister for three and a half years. My mother, three years, three months. Gone..... One does not understand the finality of death until it takes the ones you were closest to. There is a part of me that feels if I just ignore the day it will just go away. It's not so easy, is it? Not so easy. I'd give my soul for a cool, dark place where I could just sleep and sleep and sleep. I am so tired of facing up to things, to reality. I just want to sleep and forget it all. Yet the world expects me to function like I always have. You've gotta do what you gotta do, right? There is a quiet void calling me, a nice soft bed in a dark room and I really wish I could go. I long for a cool dark place where time is not allowed to intervene. A nice place where I can stay until I am well, good, and ready to face up to life again, even if it takes a thousand years. I need that void of nothingness that Q showed Picard. I have a lot of thoughts to sort out, and I just about need infinite time to get them all sorted. I take it that this is not a reasonable request, huh? I am tired. I worship sleep like the elusive god that it is. Slumber salvation, save me from reality. Imagine a dream within a dream, drifting away next to her.... How wonderful that would be. To sleep in the comfort of belonging, in the peacefulness of love. Ah, to have a heartbeat for a lullaby. You know you're tired when your fantasy of sleeping with someone actually involves sleeping, huh? Sorry, babe.. Too tired... Just need you to be my pillow. One has to be pretty damned tired to think like that... Although such closeness would most likely wake me up.... For a while, that is. Oh, and that particular sleep after is the absolute best ever. (If those memories of long ago serve) Oh well, clean cup move down. No need to have such thoughts running around my brain. Well, Ozzy is gone now. I've been listening to his music all my life. He and my Dad were both born the same year. He was just shy of three months younger than my Dad, and outlived him by exactly one year and a day. Now, from the stories I've heard, my father was no slouch at partying as a young man, but compared to Ozzy..... It certainty blew my mind as a teenager that a famous rockstar and my father were the same age. Not that my Dad was a square of any kind, he introduced me to classic rock and roll and had an awesome record collection. But, still.... Mind blown all the same. Just like Morrison, Hendrix, Lennon, and so many others, Ozzy will in some ways live forever. The ability to record sound is one if mankind's best inventions. At any rate, I was blasting Sabbath at full volume on my way to work this morning. Long live the Blizzard Of Oz! Okay.... Clean cup move down.... You know? Don't get me wrong: Money's nice. It makes life easier when you have a lot of it (or so they tell me). But, a lot of what I want doesn't have anything to do with money. Now one might think some things are easier to make happen when you're rich, but I don't think so. At least, nothing genuine. I'll put it this way: I know for certain the very few people in my life are here because of me and not for what I have. Why else would they hang around? I may not have much, but it's all real. I never have to wonder. Otherwise, it's how Ozzy sang it: Goodbye to romance, goodbye to friends... Well, friends that I wish were more than friends... Remember I am the friend zone Outer Mongolian. Though the following compilation is more general. I didn't lose to chrome this particular time. Just to one who can't see this wonderful treasure for who she is. My Angel. If I could, I would definitely give her my world. If it hasn't happened in two years, guess it never will. Grand Theft Angel, as I'd call it, will never happen. Still, all the domes are having better luck, too. I guess beauty is a subjective thing. It is definitely in the eye of the beholder. Still there are some things I don't exactly understand. No Fabio at all? I guess they really believed it WAS butter. With some, it's never Fabio, always Q-ball. She's just not into our long wavy locks, no no no. It's Q-ball all the way, hooray. She found her Q-ball and she was proud but we had to wear shades because the shine was loud. My eyes! My eyes! Go forth King Neptune and find your crown, or don't come back till the sun goes down. My eyes! My eyes! Oh well, oh well, it's unique, except Mr Clean's done lost his physique. My eyes! Holy smokes, chlorine! My eyes! Shine on, Q-ball, shine on. At least we need no mirrors. We can just watch the Telly...... Savales, that is. Who loves ya, baby? Everyone except for Talky Tina, I guess. Though she's a real sweetheart once you get to know her. At least I'd be her favorite one in that situation. Though I have to say Telly was a cool dude. Only he and Yule and Jean Luc Picard could rock that look. Runners up would be The Rock and Freddy Krueger. Please state the nature of the romantic emergency. Damn... To be outclassed by an EMH.... Yes, Doctor, apparently my ego has been fractured and needs to be repaired STAT! Can you fix it? Not that I was in that particular competition, but if I were that would have been one serious injury. Nope... I was merely disqualified, which was bad enough. Clean cup? Move down? Yeah.... Let's do that. There was no way I was going to dig myself out of that situation with words alone. Clean cup! Move down! Let's change the subject! My fellow Americans, let me make this clear. Haroooooo! I had no knowledge of the Watergate Breakdown. Break it down, Agnew! Harooooo! Let's get funky. It would be prudent at this juncture. I am not a crook. Clean cup, move down! Nothing to see here. These are not the droids we're looking for. Move it along. Going somewhere, Solo? Hell, I go everywhere solo! Outer Mongolia, remember? Maybe I need to ask Gengis Khan for dating advice. Wait... Maybe not. That would probably get me in trouble. YUUUU!