Where Better Toenail Clippers Have Failed Before
Today is a morning like so many others, 12:30 wake up calls and my mother’s home, the slimy trail of drunkard’s fingers slipping off of my head and down my spinal chord, groggying me up into the warm fair weather for New Year’s Eve. I’m preparing to go to JC Penneys, where I’ll use a left over gift card to buy something to help present me well to the opposite sex, in case there would be any chance of sex (opposite, adjacent or otherwise) in the celebration surely to come. I think of what might happen, fighting? chugging? backflips? How should I properly keep myself at a comfortably drunk enough level to allow my speech to flow unperturbed while at the same time slurring my words to a minimum and not engaging in another riotous outpour of emotions like I found myself rambling off to my sister but a moon ago.
Hah! Sudden memories of my dream – I was at my old high school, where I deserve very little respect from my past performance, and a very young girl had just gotten her first period and I was trying to explain to the secretaries that some woman probably needed to talk to her but no one would admit that it needed be done, so they ended up getting this lady teacher on the phone and she was trying to tell me what to say and I was passing the buck and it all seems very poignant to my life situation somehow.
In addition, Chadmarco has some wonderful things to say, in case you’ve given up on the links to the right.
Up Next: The intensity of oblivion is weighing heavy on my reality