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sleepytime woes

woe is me!

my circadian rhythm crossed the international date line about three months ago. it's still a fugitive at large.

grr.

well, i guess technically, so am i... except no one is really looking for me, so that doesn't count... or does it? is there any such thing as an un-wanted fugitive? the morally uprighteous, hands-clean type who has been constructively banished?

i'm a constructive banishee. yep, that's it.

{pray indulge me in my pseudolegal terminological triflings -- it's like, if i pretend not to take my life seriously, the accumulated shittiness of certain consanguineous relations somehow is temporarily minimized.. if only for all of -3 seconds}

jeesus, i sound like i'm four. but what certain people never quite catch on to is that i'm always faking it. i'm not four. incidentally, i'm fairly certain i never was "four"...

anyhoo, no more bitching and moaning. i'm going on a thrice-delayed software procuring expedition. wish me luck.

la vie boheme can kiss my nonexistent ass.

i really wish i could opt-out of generation Y sometimes. actually, more like all the time. either that, or could i please not be w.t. anymore?

recent google queries (final edition)

In decreasing order of occurrence:

silica gel children eating

ms cookie

enantiopure market

marzipan bakery jerusalem

19th century life bed time

saturn whining noise

survivalism housing

...and that (supra) is all that remains of the cookie rambling-antings. what's weird is, in a very vague sense, those seven phrases kind of synopsize the last five years of my life. they're even in chronological order.

uncanny, that.