soapboxdiner

Don't stand so close to me

My accomplice in painting crimes is supposed to be here in approximately 12 hours. I've promised beer, supplies, lunch, and a completely prepared house.

Instead, I'm so wraught with nerves that all I can manage to do is to sit here with trembling muscles, smoke way too many cigarettes, and run to the bathroom.

Why did I say what I said? (No. I'm not telling. But needless to say, it did not have the effect that I expected.)

It always amazes me how two people in the same situation will perceive that situation completely differently...

On my brain today... pushed envelopes, how sad it is when beautiful people have been programmed to expect villification more than admiration, how really fucking patronizing it is for me to assume that is the case, delving deeper into a mind so completely different and yet so eerily similar to my own, wondering if my attempts to do so will hence forth be rebuffed, who's head got the better part of the fucking Friday night, why I felt the need to make my issue someone else's problem, and how I could have been so completely off the mark. I'm usually pretty damn good at sizing things up...

I suppose it's these little freak outs that make life interesting, eh? At least I'm not bored.

9:24 pm - 05.17.03
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