you don’t have to go to europe

I’d fuck you because you are famous
I’d fuck you for your money
I’d fuck you to control you
I’d fuck you so someday I can have half of everything you own
I’d fuck you to fuck you over
I’d fuck you until I find someone better
Then fuck you in secret
I’d fuck you because I can’t remember if I’d already fucked you before
Marilyn Manson in the morning makes for an interesting mood once you get to work. Something just isn’t right about listening to him in the mid-morning fog of a commute to work. Something about it makes you want to veer off the road, go someplace dark and warm and just lie very still, eyes closed, letting your body feel the pounding beat. Of course, that’s not feasible this morning. This morning, FNIS requires my body sit at work, in my uncomfortable chair, to stare into this monitor as it slowly irradiates me and ruins my vision, for at least a few hours. This morning, at least, I got to make the commute in my own car, listening to my own cds instead of morning talk radio nonsense, even if it was just more Marilyn Manson that I didn’t have the heart to eject for something brighter. Who wants bright music. It’s Thursday. Thursday’s suck, all day long. I knew from the moment I woke up hot, sweaty, and thirsty at about 3:30 this morning that this Thursday was going to suck.
Beneath them, tasting still taints malicious bitter bite of wormwood and ashes.
My green fairy, razor-winged, slices souls bare.
How can I complain, when all I really have to do is plant my ass in this chair and type personal drama into LJ for a few hours to collect a paycheck. Occasionally, when someone emails or comes by requesting work, I just turn and say, “Well, can’t do that because today’s problem is blah blah blah is mysteriously down, and I can’t do any work.” It’s been over a week of this. Theoretically, this should have felt like vacation. Actually, it was mentally draining. Perhaps I don’t mind being here so much when I actually have things to pass the time…. sitting here figuring out what I can and can’t do is just frustrating and makes me want to leave.
What’s wrong with me? Is this depressed? Is this just boredom? What happens after work, when I’m “home” and able to “relax”? Well, the ritual is pretty much the same every day (hence the word ritual)… we stare at each other… “You hungry?” “I dunno, you hungry” “I dunno, what you want?” “I dunno, what YOU want?” It’s not so bad. It’s nice to have somebody to come home to and have the ritual conversation with at all. It’s a comfort to know that there is someone who will just enjoy your presence without you having to try hard to entertain them or they to entertain you. To just BE together, even if together is different rooms of a house with just the occasional “checking on”. It’s not so bad.
I know what’s wrong… it’s all about me. Can we talk about me now?–I’m practicing for Friday. –>insert drama<-- Things just aren’t happening fast enough… yet, things are going by too fast. Maybe I need a machine to make it all real… Kelly would know.
So, let’s end it with a survey….
scienceiscool has made a Comment
http://www.allthingsabsinthe.com
legal to ship to usa (it seems), but hella expensive.
August 21, 2003 @ 4:49 am
flerly has made a Comment
Oh yes, we’re aware you can ship it to the U.S. Thank you, Maxim Magazine for making that information all to clear… the bottle was ordered before I even realized it was legal to buy now.
August 21, 2003 @ 4:50 am
bingothemonkey has made a Comment
I still have part of a bottle left at home. It tastes ICKY!
August 21, 2003 @ 5:28 am
goaticusmaximus has made a Comment
Thujone isn’t really so bad— There is comparatively little wormwood in Absynthe.
You’d die of alcohol poisoning before it would make you trip/seize/go crazy.
It’s funny that it became so…. vilified- These misconceptions of it’s Evilness were promoted by the wine producers of Europe, who viewed the substance as a dangerous competitor whose popularity needed to be culled. -Like the anti-marijuana propaganda and legislation of the 1920’s American Southwest.
The fun thing is, Absynthe was never officially banned in the UK. Nor in several other countries; particularly (and most notably) in Portugal, and the Czech Republic. The Swiss have continued to make it, privately, much like the moonshine of the American hillbillies. (except, much better– It won’t cause you to go blind)
August 21, 2003 @ 9:15 am