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tom waits' voice is like a fine wine, it just gets better and better with age.
i have to be at work in less than 4 hours and can't sleep.
the situation here at home base isn't very solid so much anymore. i just feel like i'm sitting far underwater with a mask on, and i am just looking out the eye-holes and watching things go by. it's weird, i'm sort of confused when i actually feel anything, like a "what the fuck was that" type of situation. it's like the faucet in our bathroom, you turn on hot but you get ice cold until it eventually gets hot. but then it just sort of floats away again and i go back to autopilot. i don't like feeling this way, but i'm seeing more and more that it's not really my choice anymore. i'm the mule, i'm the turtle, i'm the steady and hearty person people have come to rely on. i've shrugged as hard as i can to get the world off my shoulders, but... it just always falls back down on me, usually with a couple new moons, maybe a satellite or two. it's a bitter acceptance of my fate, but it's just that - acceptance. i am not meant for happy things, or anything less than next to absolute poverty. it's like the circus, there's all this wonderment and amazing things, but afterwards i'm the guy that has to come in and shovel elephant shit. that's me, life's poopsmith.
maybe things will get better, maybe not. i'm a firm believer in never saying "everything's gonna be okay" because it never is. it took years of hearing how okay things were gonna be and having okay things blow up in my face over and over again to realize that no, everything is not going to be okay. sometimes they are, but it will get worse again, and every time is worse than the last time and lasts much longer than the okay parts.
i'm just tired. that's really all i can say anymore. i'm tired. all i want to do is sleep, but i can't even do that. i just wish this not okay time would end already, because it's seriously sucked out my sense of humor, my wit, my charm, my energy... my life. i dunno if i'm gonna make it through this okay kids. i now understand why people grow old and bitter.
bitter like the vicodin i'm about to swallow in an attempt at being in just enough pain to fall asleep for a few hours. i see the surgeon monday, it will take every fiber of my being not to punch him square in his smug fucking face.
wow, re-reading that sounds like a suicide threat. perhaps i should have said "the vicodin i'm about to swallow at the recommended dosage," heh. with that note, here's my attempt... at sleeping, silly.
i have to be at work in less than 4 hours and can't sleep.
the situation here at home base isn't very solid so much anymore. i just feel like i'm sitting far underwater with a mask on, and i am just looking out the eye-holes and watching things go by. it's weird, i'm sort of confused when i actually feel anything, like a "what the fuck was that" type of situation. it's like the faucet in our bathroom, you turn on hot but you get ice cold until it eventually gets hot. but then it just sort of floats away again and i go back to autopilot. i don't like feeling this way, but i'm seeing more and more that it's not really my choice anymore. i'm the mule, i'm the turtle, i'm the steady and hearty person people have come to rely on. i've shrugged as hard as i can to get the world off my shoulders, but... it just always falls back down on me, usually with a couple new moons, maybe a satellite or two. it's a bitter acceptance of my fate, but it's just that - acceptance. i am not meant for happy things, or anything less than next to absolute poverty. it's like the circus, there's all this wonderment and amazing things, but afterwards i'm the guy that has to come in and shovel elephant shit. that's me, life's poopsmith.
maybe things will get better, maybe not. i'm a firm believer in never saying "everything's gonna be okay" because it never is. it took years of hearing how okay things were gonna be and having okay things blow up in my face over and over again to realize that no, everything is not going to be okay. sometimes they are, but it will get worse again, and every time is worse than the last time and lasts much longer than the okay parts.
i'm just tired. that's really all i can say anymore. i'm tired. all i want to do is sleep, but i can't even do that. i just wish this not okay time would end already, because it's seriously sucked out my sense of humor, my wit, my charm, my energy... my life. i dunno if i'm gonna make it through this okay kids. i now understand why people grow old and bitter.
bitter like the vicodin i'm about to swallow in an attempt at being in just enough pain to fall asleep for a few hours. i see the surgeon monday, it will take every fiber of my being not to punch him square in his smug fucking face.
wow, re-reading that sounds like a suicide threat. perhaps i should have said "the vicodin i'm about to swallow at the recommended dosage," heh. with that note, here's my attempt... at sleeping, silly.
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and yes, tom waits is an all around amazing individual. i adore how he's a songwriter that still believes in telling stories with his music, not just vomiting forth fancy alliterations and crafty fragments.