I'm sorry I've been writing so much lately, I don't know why, but remember I warned you about how I'd get. Today I write about: being bored, hot topics, chicken wire, and myself!
Thursday, May. 12, 2005 - 21:41

Again today at work I was REALLY FUCKING BORED, and guess what I'll be tomorrow?

Yes so my recently unearthed veritable treasure trove of high quality literature - I'm always frustrated because I'm either too busy to be as productive as I'd like, or, when I do have time, when I could spend all my time writing high quality literature, I'm so unmotivated and uninspired, so lazy that I spend most of my time doing absolutely nothing - sitting on the couch staring straight ahead.

But now there's my veritable treasure trove, and the troviest, the most veritably treasured, is from when I was in Australia, and - get this - last fall when I was just sitting around. Last fall I "wrote" a "novel"! I also started some things that I like. And in Australia I filled up a notebook with some fairly decent crap - that's where Mabel Mains was born! That's where I wrote a lot of haikus!

Working last summer among felons and psychopaths, and now working at a fancy-schmancy (and fucking boring) law firm - it's for the experience, it's for the material, but I haven't written anything about either job.

Consequently obviously I should quit working again, sit around some more, and go back to Australia, and I won't have to feel guilty about any of it, it's all justifiable.

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You can take a ferry to Alaska!

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And I've become in the last couple years more hyperactive (relatively, for me, but not for real hyperactive people, or plain old active people) and I can't stand the thought of having to sit for 40 hours a week for the next 35 years. I will get sit-butt. I don't want a sit-butt, they look like pancakes, I hate pancakes, if there's one thing I hate more than crows and wind it's pancakes (except Swedish pancakes, yum).

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But I love bees, if there's one thing I love it's bumblebees, big fat fuzzy buzzy bumblebees.

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I'm really bored. Chocolate.

Now I will comment on recent items in the news:

It's almost summer, get ready for the start of the driving and murder seasons! And, not that I know anything, and maybe he did do it, but I just kind of don't think the dad did it. Also, Mycobacterium leprae simply refuses to grow in anything other than humans, mouse footpads, and nine-banded armadillos. And that right there, my friends, is the reason we should all give up our silly fiction aspirations and stick to nonfiction. (Not really, but really, real stuff is so interesting.)

Also, I don't really understand people who go to great dramatic lengths to kill themselves, like jumping off overpasses or driving into trains or whatever. You only live 12 times! Why waste this one by giving up so soon, and so retardedly? Because it often doesn't work, so you have to climb back up the overpass and jump off again, and then you have to wrestle with cops and make them shoot you, and that makes them feel bad. Instead of all this silliness you could be at home in bed taking a nap, or playing with your dog, or writing a haiku, or celebrating National Masturbation Month.

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Now I am pleased to present a couple long-lost poettes, unburied after weeks and weeks of being lost! They are haikus!

Pigeons go away
for the earthquake drill today.
We'll have to eat you.

Pigeons it's okay,
I'd rather die than eat you,
You disgusting things.