This sense of distorted self? The feeling I get when I wake up on a day like today.
Jolted out of bed by the fact that I didn't get up when my alarm clock originally went off.
Sinking with the feeling of trepidation that I've over slept and am, inevitably, late for work.
I was not.
At least in the sense of opening the store on time.
I didn't however make it in time to go to the post office.
No time to send off the little packages of books, whos' owners are waiting so patiently for.
Preposition bad to end on.
Damn I did it again.
I made it to work sans shower. I counted out the till, and flipped on the lights. Checked the email.
Even managed to process the order we got this morning.
Now I'm back to pricing and entering books.
My creative juices have been flowing in the mornings.
They, the juices, used to flow at night.
What happened?
I've started reading again.
Earnestly reading that is. I've only read a handful of books this year. I finished I Robot. Started Shardik though it turned out to be too allegorical for my mood. Plowed through two Red Dwarf novels. I tried Stephenwolf, too much for the time, I will pick it up again though. This week I sailed through Invisible Monsters. I'm now treading water in Gunther Grass' Tin Drum. I have a list of authors: Welsh, Ellis, Hempel, Rushdie, not to mention Hesse, Heinlein, and Asimov. Fantasy, sci-fi, literature, horror, westerns; give them all to me. If it's good, I'll read it. Eventually.
I want to pick up All Quiet on the Western Front again, as well as Catch-22.
Have you read those?
You should.
I got the same feeling of reverence during Remarque's book that I got at the end of Tracer's.
Catch-22 is just fun to read. It's hell good. One can't help but feel deep sympathy for Yosarian.
TVD
New acronym for a band.
Typhoid Vagina Doorknob
Don't confuse the Doorknob at the end, it's supposed to be singular.
What's it mean?
Nothing, but it's fun to say.
Tom came up with it. I came up with the acronym
It's not snowing today. In fact it's quite pleasant: about 65 degrees or so.
I'm wearing sandals.
Quicker to put on than shoes and socks. More comfortable too.
Strange how the weather works.
I don't usually wear sandals to work. On occasion however. My feet don't have that irritable stench that some people get.
I'm not saying I don't stink, just not as bad as others.
I feel a strange anticipation.
Almost as if I'm expecting something to happen, something good, but I don't know what it is.
I hope I find out soon.
Because the wait is killing me.
But then again so is time.
Can you imagine the tragic consequence of both? Imagine the detriment to my interior and exterior, combined with poor lifestyle choices, and mediocre nutrition, on top of time and anticipation?
This is why I don't write at work: I ramble.
On and on and on and on and on and on and on.
posted by F.G. Shaw @ 12:30 PM
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