'Rant'? What mean you by this?
2000-08-11 - 21:45:21
I am Animal (TM), from the Muppets (TM). My melancholy hyperactivity and bulging eyes are occasionally interrupted by fits of raging "YA, YA!" and a great flailing of arms. I can't stop moving, I can't goto sleep, or the clowns will get me...
At the beginning of this summer, I couldn't comprehend how I survived without relationships. I couldn't imagine a world without flirting, sexual innuendoes, and girls in general. It was as if I was eating 'Jason's Life Soup' with a fork before, and that I had finally been given a spoon. But now I realize there are better ways to eat soup. *throws down his spoon and fork, and plunges his head into a bowl of JLS. YA, YA!
But really; spoons are dangerous. I still have a little mark on my left thumb where I punctured it with a plastic spoon several months ago. And all in the name of 'Art'. Who this Art is, I know not.
Well, someone blow me away with a Glock. I feel more alive now; I finally realized what I did before I had these things they call 'relationships'. I had real friends. Friends that I could talk with, about nothing and everything, and not all at once. Fist fights, LAN parties, and deep philosophical conversations done completely in metaphors. Like Mitch, and La Cocinelle. That was what I lived on. Now, my old friends (read: Mitch) seem to have disappeared. Now, I'm living on something else. It appears to be pure energy. I twitch. I brush my teeth until I bleed, and can't help but laugh at the sight of myself. I am elated by learning, and creating, and 'stuff' in general. I went on a 'rendering rage' today. I've made several movies in Bryce (TM), and done a couple acrylic paintings in the more-or-less abstract. I'm reading a physics textbook between sets of pushups. And I can't stop smiling. I fear I shall hurt myself with this...ecstasy. YA, YA!
Can't stop chewing gum. Sweating now, I'm too active. Too motionful. There's something more to learn, I know there is. But I have nothing to start with, I don't have the first piece of the puzzle. Pacing. Wiggling on my floor. More pushups. My phalange bones are to close to the end of my fingers. I fear my bones will break the skin, and I shall claw myself to death. They don't tappity-tapp, like normal fingers, they knock.
It's eluding me...hiding from me. I don't want to be turned off. Please, don't turn the light off, not yet.
'Bring me a light, make my life worth something more, bring me a light, bring me a light.' -Myrik's Calculus Notes.
'...I won't ever be the same...It's a motherfucker, how much I understand...'
