Another Foggy day in Paradise

5:30 am Full Stark Wide Awake tic tic tic tic, somewhere, there is a clock of some sort, ticking. The sky is still dark. That clock needs to be buried under the futon downstairs. If I'm so freakin' deaf how come I can hear this incessant ticking?

6:30 the sky would be blue it it were not busy being covered with gray. Brr.

many minutes pass. In my dream I have been tied to the proverbial railroad tracks while a villain that smells like the Chinatown sewer lurks nearby. I cannot wake myself enough to move, back to dreaming.

8:37 still gray, still cold. still can't move. The sewer smell has faded much like the aroma of cat poo in the litter box as it slowly dries out. I discover a huddled mass of cat asleep at the summit of Mount Rump. No wonder I feel pinned in place. I am pinned in place.

Back to sleep, determination to have a productive day dissolving like Emergen-C but with fewer bubbles.

Noon passes. Princess Catkin slowly treads the lumbering roll of my hips like a bristly Canadian lumberman dancing on logs in a river. In a world where logs in rivers roll as quickly as cold molasses and lumbermen have sweet heartshaped faces and are to their entirety garbed in monochrome gray plaid fur. Or something similarly weird.

Tomorrow I will go to school and surf the internet and try to pretend that not getting things done = getting things done when really, fuck it I am just tired, so much to do. Could possibly graduate, but so much more to be done.

The tax man has convinced me to go out tonight. I don't want to go. I think I hate clubs with their overpriced drinks & too loud music & skinny girls with waists the same circumference as my upper thigh. Grr.