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rejectomorphEvery day I'm surprised I've made it through another.
My taste buds are slowly shifting back toward something resembling normal responses. The tea I'm drinking tastes only slightly like alfalfa, for example, and the chocolate has less burnt talcum in it than of late. Other stuff is not normalizing, though. I'm pretty sure that my sciatic nerves have been hooked up to a pain machine somewhere. I've looked all over the house and can't find the infernal device. Maybe it's Sluggo?
Animals continue to enjoy the pleasant summer days and nights. I feel surprisingly little resentment toward them, and no more envy than is reasonable under the circumstances. Let them frolic and sing and chirp and whatever else they do. Most of them aren't going to be around all that long, anyway, and will probably come to bad ends themselves by being eaten and whatnot. Of course, compared to months of agony, maybe being eaten isn't such a bad end. Birds might know something I don't, and thus have good reason to sing.
Anyway, dusk. Head yanking tomorrow afternoon. Each recent head yanking has led to diminished head pain, though it's done nothing for anything else that's wrong. Maybe tomorrow's head yanking will get rid of the last of the headache, and then I'll be able to decide what to do about the rest of my disintegration. I wouldn't bet on it though.
Two hours of Internet connection being down. My ISP must be getting sick, too.
My taste buds are slowly shifting back toward something resembling normal responses. The tea I'm drinking tastes only slightly like alfalfa, for example, and the chocolate has less burnt talcum in it than of late. Other stuff is not normalizing, though. I'm pretty sure that my sciatic nerves have been hooked up to a pain machine somewhere. I've looked all over the house and can't find the infernal device. Maybe it's Sluggo?
Animals continue to enjoy the pleasant summer days and nights. I feel surprisingly little resentment toward them, and no more envy than is reasonable under the circumstances. Let them frolic and sing and chirp and whatever else they do. Most of them aren't going to be around all that long, anyway, and will probably come to bad ends themselves by being eaten and whatnot. Of course, compared to months of agony, maybe being eaten isn't such a bad end. Birds might know something I don't, and thus have good reason to sing.
Anyway, dusk. Head yanking tomorrow afternoon. Each recent head yanking has led to diminished head pain, though it's done nothing for anything else that's wrong. Maybe tomorrow's head yanking will get rid of the last of the headache, and then I'll be able to decide what to do about the rest of my disintegration. I wouldn't bet on it though.
Two hours of Internet connection being down. My ISP must be getting sick, too.
