Tuesday, November 12, 2002

hangover... what it feels like... ever gotten drunk? do you remember it? i dont think i've ever gotten drunk but thats the problem, i wouldnt remember. the continuous conundrum, the everlasting enigma, the perinnial problem... shall i go on? anyway, back to the point (not quite a sharp one, i do feel like shit), i feel like shit. kindof like a hangover but i dont know because i dont recall ever getting drunk but i might have but i wouldnt remember... its a damn circle. blah damn excedrine. but anyway, the bitchin headache, the pincushion stomach pains... im either having a hangover or a baby. im personally intrigued by the possibility that i might be pregnant but i dont remember that either... im inclined to beleive, however, the hangover theory, drawing from the fact that i'm as thin as a rail. a thin rail at that. considering my imaginary friend juan gonzales the columbian coffe man and his donkey were gunned down in a columbian government sting op. in columbia recently (they were suppliers), it might be manic depression which would explain the visions and crazy ideas of munkees and sugarplum fairies. no really, i dont know whats going on here. i feel like a bug crushed in the ground. i dont know where im going or if i have the courage to get there. that would be the excedrine speaking. it was chicken soup for the soul generic brand excedrine. if you cant tell, its late and im up and have had no coffee or doughnuts in weeks and it shows. i need someone who understands. not a crew person, they dont have enough time; not someone from another school, i have probably bugged them enough; not a girl, they would over analyze and exploit the situation to biblical proportions and probably not speak to me; not a guy, he would probably feel the same way and be half incoherent at that. a paranoid android, good listener, doesnt talk much, and cant lose himself in thought. wonderful... where do i find one of those? you dont wanna know... if i have a baby im not telling you... blah damn excedrine...

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