Very rarely do I go to bed at any non-ungodly hour (in fact, usually I’m going to bed about now) and even more rarely do I dream (though I suppose theoretically I always do, at least that’s what the shamans say), so when I do, it tends to mess about with things in ways I’d rather weren’t messed-about-with.
And about the truth… Which half-assed idiot was the one who said that it would set you free?! The truth will leave you tied and broken and in need of drink. Or, as Father Jack says, “DRINK!”
Oh, Father… Where is the drink?!
And then you wake up at 3.30 in the morning and just when you think you’re getting it together, you remember something and get confused again, probably irreperably.
What is it I’m on about? Oh… Fsckin’ god knows. (**)
By the way, I am on an abbreviated study schedule, I will be taking the GRE this Sunday. Yes, Sunday. Odd day for a standardized test, yes? But that was what I asked for — the soonest slot available. Time marches and therefore so do I, so do I, so do I.
Ahhhh! I just heard it is snowing in Vermont. That is beautiful, and for that at least, I am very grateful. Hmm, now that I think about it, I s’pose I shouldn’t turn it off so often. No, not the snow, children, the phone! There are these people inside it, you see, and I’d rather talk to them than… do this.
But nevermind — and let’s be desperately honest about this, now — I’m barely here ‘t the moment (these mid-morning chats with myself and the Web… they do so exhaust me), so do so allow… (boisterously, to the tune of Deutschland Ueber Alles):
ich bin, ich bin, ich bin v’rruckt!
No encore. Now I’m leaving for winkyland again. Wish me fewer fscking dreams and even fewer still — ambitions. Thanks.
No, no, I do not need your applause!
I can’t HEAR you!
(** Oh mania, mania, wherefore art thou, mania?)