good morning how are you, I'm doctor worm, im interested in things, but im not a real doctor.
i live like a worm, and like to play the drums.
turns out that i can handle criticism. i am currently in my musty smelling bedroom of questionable temperature, gluing floral prints to my bed frame. because im unbelievably vintage and cool.
my skull candy headphones make me feel like nothing else in the world exists, except for music. i wonder what the world would be like without music. we'd have something else to live for, but if music suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth, i think people would suffer.
i worked tonight, and it was nice. i like my job, and i like the people i work with. im just not sure im cut out for it. i guess I'll find out.
i think, and this is just an observation,
that i may or may not have massive issues with sleep. i suck at going to sleep when i should. what the fuck is with still being up at four in the morning, after an eight hour shift, being drunk and high and stressful conversations. what sort of an idiot am i?
there's incense smoke drifting into my face, and its way less comfortable than one would imagine. i can feel is probing my eyeballs from the outside, trying to find a way into my brain so it can get me high. fortunately it doesn't have to try that hard because im breathing it in, and that's a pretty surefire way to get it into my brain.
what an odd thing to write about. i should read some Agatha Christie and be done with it, but i cant be bothered, which is odd. i want a record player again, they're lovely. as far as i can imagine, vinyls are way lovelier than CD's. whoever though up vinyls was much better than the guy who invented the Compact Disc. they may be bigger, and more fragile, but they produce a nicer sound, and tend to contain artwork rather than shit mainstream crap that gets money for fucked up cunts like Lindsay lohan. i hope she reads this, stupid bitch.
i think kids, that it's time to get fucked up. actually there is nothing i would rather do less than get fucked up right now. i feel like being sober and loving life as much as i possibly can at four thirty in the morning.
i wish i was sleeping, then i could have a nice day tomorrow and not look like an overtired hag.
i miss having loads of music, because it all got lost on my last computer. its fucking ludicrous i know.
my eyes feel sort of heavy and my head spins when i close my eyes, but whenever i lay down and try to sleep i get really alert and awake. there cant be anything normal about this h aha.
im contemplating having a little lunch with my father tomorrow, but im not sure if i want to have it with him, or with Dominic.i don't know.
family Christmas this Saturday, in port willunga. or is it Sunday? i don't know but i guess i shall se tomorrow evening, when i see mother.
i am rambling now, and not in a good way. im writing what i think and i don't think that's very interesting most of the time. i hate muse though. some of their songs are awesome when im in the mood where i want to kill myself, only because they encourage that feeling with their gay shittiness though. but seriously, i enjoy a couple of their songs, the ones i heard first and the ones that I've had good times too, but other than that i basically hate the shit out of them they have very little real talent in their singer, and it makes me feel like im having someone complaining at me but in a singing voice. worst feeling ever, i swear to god. i wore green mascara today, and it gave me flashbacks. to what, i don't know, but they were flashbacks. maybe they weren't, maybe i just wrote down the word that seems to be blaring in my ear very repetitively. i cant help it, writing and listening at the same time is difficult. if i get too absorbed in the music i start to write what im hearing, much like i write what im saying when im trying to write something and talk to someone at the same time.
oh man this is so boring. for you i mean, the reader. i hope you have thoughts too, then you can console yourself by thinking that you;re glad you don't suck as hard as i do.
i feel like and outing tomorrow, to some sort of really big field, with sheep and kiwi's, and peanut butter and cheese. cheese honey banana and peanut butter sandwiches are Jesus. seriously, i would worship them if they were the higher power. they would be like pigs to the Jewish. god i should do that. just to freak people out, i should have a statue of a sandwich in my room, and have it buried with my, like the ancient Egyptians did with cats, that was just creepy though. i mean, wrapping a cat in bandages after taking out all its vital organs so that some guy could have it in an afterlife that may or may not exist. i wish i had beliefs like that. i wish i had been brought up reading about afterlives and reincarnation, rather than death and heaven and hell. basically heaven is a nightclub you can only get into if you;re a righteous slut.
hell however if like a slut on Saturday nights legs: wide open.
i love it.
the only issue with hell is that its like, your own personal nightmare. well that's what it is in my head. you don't get the company of other people, you get the company of your fears and hates, and its for eternity. can't say im keen.
okay my brain is getting sore now, and i should probably go to sleep, but not before i have shared this small nugget of wisdom:
don;t be a fool, protect your tool. seriously, im a huge fan of protecting tools. you don't just leave your power drill out in the rain, you take it into the shed. DO YOU WANT A BABY POWER DRILL AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE? you don't even know how to use your power drill yet, let alone raise the consequences. that metaphor was sort of sketchy, and a little out of whack, but what are you going to do, punch me in the face? feel free to do so, verbally.
through a comment i guess. or find me and punch me in the face, but i guarantee that if you do that i will fuck you up so bad with the crowbar i keep under my bed and you will regret the day you were born.
no doubt if your the sort of person who finds random bloggers houses so you can punch them in the face, you already regret the day you were born, and really just want to have your head shoved so far up your ass it comes out your mouth again. doesn't that sound exciting little ones?
really though, i don't keep a crowbar under my bed, nor do i intend to fuck you up if you try punching me.
i will simply kill you with the gun i keep in my pocket.
the hand gun.
quite literally, it is a gun made out of my hand, and it shoots invisible bullets that you don't feel, but they kill your soul every time i fire one.
anyway, im off to bed sad young children. try to think happy.
and if that doesn't work for the next five years, find the closest gun and shoot yourself, because after this shitstorm, another will come and you'll have to rebuild yourself over and over.
goodnight.
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