Friday, August 20, 2004
I get tired of smiling. But when you have been experiencing a serious lack of human contact, all you can do is smile. Or switch on your black and white television which only possesses two channels that hardly come in. Something about just hearing their voices behind the crackling, fuzzy screen makes it seem like I'm having a conversation with someone: "We simply must accept the fact that Captain Kirk is no longer alive" NO! Not Captain Kirk. What a sad, sad conversation we had today.
Also a lack of human contact makes you bake like a middle aged woman having a life crisis. God bless those women!
It also makes you go for walks, and sit on picnic tables while drawing cartoons who go by the names of Laurence Rosey Rosendale, Eleanor-Penelope, Adam Appleting (he has a very large adamsapple and is a floating stranger, who appears in your daydreams, night-time dreams, and even your breakfast cereal bowls), Oscar Koffenbegen with his mambo bunny, IsinBan and let us not forget dear old Greg and Sheila. And there is another one, who is nameless, but she keeps a heart in a jar. Yes, oh yes she coughed the entire world up in the palm of her hands the other day. They each have a story of their own, and are tightly kept in a book with vegetables on the cover.
Yes, the draw(l)ings look as if a 3 year old drew them...blindfolded.
I've become this hunk of smiling flesh, which really makes me sick to my stomach, and I'm trying so hard to at least frown. I'll hunch my back, let my hair fall in front of my face, and shuffle down the streets, while my hands twitch outward beckoning small children into my oversize trench coat.
I think I went too far with that.
Also a lack of human contact makes you bake like a middle aged woman having a life crisis. God bless those women!
It also makes you go for walks, and sit on picnic tables while drawing cartoons who go by the names of Laurence Rosey Rosendale, Eleanor-Penelope, Adam Appleting (he has a very large adamsapple and is a floating stranger, who appears in your daydreams, night-time dreams, and even your breakfast cereal bowls), Oscar Koffenbegen with his mambo bunny, IsinBan and let us not forget dear old Greg and Sheila. And there is another one, who is nameless, but she keeps a heart in a jar. Yes, oh yes she coughed the entire world up in the palm of her hands the other day. They each have a story of their own, and are tightly kept in a book with vegetables on the cover.
Yes, the draw(l)ings look as if a 3 year old drew them...blindfolded.
I've become this hunk of smiling flesh, which really makes me sick to my stomach, and I'm trying so hard to at least frown. I'll hunch my back, let my hair fall in front of my face, and shuffle down the streets, while my hands twitch outward beckoning small children into my oversize trench coat.
I think I went too far with that.
