BVBVBVBV

[ 2.24.2003 ]

 

Sex, sleep eat, drink,dream
"the Rope, the Dope or the Pope" part II

This has been one of those days when I sing to John Dowland, silently in my head. And nobody understands what is it with me. And I start to wonder myself what it is. Is it something I ate? ? Is it the debts and bankloans? The frustrating fact that trying to manage the things may cost my more than sitting dumb and letting it levitate to the fan by it's own time.

Or is it because of a difficult patron at work, that makes me disgruntled over the course I'm steering my days by? Or maybe that I really can't see myself finishing my thesis while at this job - at least I'm not progressing a bit (some have, which doesn't make it any easier for me). Or is it that I don't do the thing I'd wan't to? Perhaps it's those bands, those damn bands I wa't to play in; those bands that sometimes make it so hard for me to enjoy playing music more than anything else - because I don't get to play! Instead, I rot away at work.

Weeeeeeelllyes, I've done a whole few more unpleasant jobs and at least at the moment I'm having pretty well the kind of work my edcation has educated me and stuff, but, uh, you know... everybody who's seen The Shining knows how important having fun is.

Besides I'm falling ill. And hardly any time for that. I'd have dozens of things going on at work, and if I don't take a time out right now I'm going to say somebody something I shouldn't have. Well, okay, I just did it, so maybe I'll kill somebody next? Just for the jolly of it. Probably the person that calls me Mr Sunshine in an awkward tempt to sheer me up, reminding me of how my face betrays me and my feelings. It's very likely that psychosomatically my body's screaming for the needed time out, too, and seizes me by catching the cambodian killer influenza going around (though nobody - old agers don't count - have died of it, it's very exausting, according to my collegues).




Mr EagleOwl [9:47 AM]