spot me a philosphy, would ya?
i am the definition of tired,
the personification of sleepy, a tribal statue erected in honorarium of sloppy exhaustion.
tired and sore. were soreness a painting, would be i the paint. if achyness a trumpet, i the limber keys. if pedantic nonsense had a name, it would be vikas.
anyway.
yes, so tired. and sore. a good kind of tired and sore, in a way, but also not good in another way. just the kind that obstructs things, the kind that prevents you from holding your arms up without having to try and stretch them out first (think village people and YMCA but pretend that one of them was doing the letter 'T'. that right there, that move, is what i'm talkin' 'bout)
there are clouds outside my window and a fog inside my head. i'm running on automatic. or maybe manual; whichever one implies that you're running along without request of actual independent thought or imagination. where your agenda for the day is
1. breathe
2. eat (maybe)
3. sit at desk
4. breathe
with the occasional bout of typing. but those things are okay, when it's nice looking out.
sure it's a little chilly, but "chilly and chili and chile are all good things," i've always said, "so keep 'em coming." honestly, i've always said it. i even wrote it to amber g. in her middle school year book while she simultaneously wrote "have a nice summer" in mine.
freaking middle school. the paths i could have taken, had anyone responded to my enthusiasm about chilly, chili, and chile.
the week has progressed. there have been many trips to gymnasiums, grocery stores, hardware stores, big stores little stores stores that climb on rocks. etcetera. but none of them have captivated my spirit, none of them have rocked my soul and sent me vaulting into hopeful expection of my next trek to the ____ store.
but maybe i'm expecting too much. maybe shopping catharsis has no reality, maybe i'm looking for something that doesn't exist. like a jackalope or jimmy hoffa's gold fillings.
fine, fine, i take back the jackalope thing. it's not right to make fun at the non-existence of such an obviously realistic creature.
blufarumbum.
the personification of sleepy, a tribal statue erected in honorarium of sloppy exhaustion.
tired and sore. were soreness a painting, would be i the paint. if achyness a trumpet, i the limber keys. if pedantic nonsense had a name, it would be vikas.
anyway.
yes, so tired. and sore. a good kind of tired and sore, in a way, but also not good in another way. just the kind that obstructs things, the kind that prevents you from holding your arms up without having to try and stretch them out first (think village people and YMCA but pretend that one of them was doing the letter 'T'. that right there, that move, is what i'm talkin' 'bout)
there are clouds outside my window and a fog inside my head. i'm running on automatic. or maybe manual; whichever one implies that you're running along without request of actual independent thought or imagination. where your agenda for the day is
1. breathe
2. eat (maybe)
3. sit at desk
4. breathe
with the occasional bout of typing. but those things are okay, when it's nice looking out.
sure it's a little chilly, but "chilly and chili and chile are all good things," i've always said, "so keep 'em coming." honestly, i've always said it. i even wrote it to amber g. in her middle school year book while she simultaneously wrote "have a nice summer" in mine.
freaking middle school. the paths i could have taken, had anyone responded to my enthusiasm about chilly, chili, and chile.
the week has progressed. there have been many trips to gymnasiums, grocery stores, hardware stores, big stores little stores stores that climb on rocks. etcetera. but none of them have captivated my spirit, none of them have rocked my soul and sent me vaulting into hopeful expection of my next trek to the ____ store.
but maybe i'm expecting too much. maybe shopping catharsis has no reality, maybe i'm looking for something that doesn't exist. like a jackalope or jimmy hoffa's gold fillings.
fine, fine, i take back the jackalope thing. it's not right to make fun at the non-existence of such an obviously realistic creature.
blufarumbum.
posted by vikas at 4:12 PM
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