A Non-Newtonian Fluid

Airlines gave me an adventure.
I miss the comfortable bed of the Karl.
I miss his cats too.

I got in SO much later than I should have, and I really don't want to be here,...

I also seem to have adapted too easily to the standard keyboard again, so typing on the natural is a bitch right now.

I need sleep. I'll give like.. a full story later. ::nods::

( Collapse )

By the way... The screwtop wine in this post bears explaining.
Karl did not purposefully purchase screwtop wine.
He wanted me to be CLEAR about this.

We went to the Curious Grape. The gentleman there suggested this one as one of Karl's purchases. Nice Sauvingon Blanc with passionfruit flavors, he said.
We had a bottle that Karl already had that was very good. Then, down in the wine cellar in the semi-dark, we found this suggested bottle, he tried to cut the foil off the top with the little foil cutters. He thought he got it off, but there was still metal there. So, he started to cut again and got it off this time.. but there was no cork. NO CORK.
Could they have possibly fucked up and FORGOTTEN A CORK? I think not.
So then he took a good look at the "foil" and discovered that it was actually a screwtop.

This was very strange, but we tried the wine anyway because that doesn't necessarily mean anything. ::shrug::

But it was pretty icky.

Karl did not knowingly purchase screwtop wine.
I just need to make that clear.

Found the profile.

iiiinteresting.
Not embarassing.
Very truthful.

If I'd read *that* first, even given the forum, I would have been all swoony just the same.

"'There are a million questions I'd like the answers to. You always hated groups and here you are submitting to indoctrination in a religion ostensibly run by dead employees of British Telecom. Why? For Christ's sake why?'
'Yeah, it is kind of weird, isn't it. I think death must have mellowed me.'"

That from the fucking brilliant story The North London Book of the Dead, in The Quantity Theory of Insanity,by Will Self, one of the books Karl sent me.

I'm thus far horribly impressed, amused, entertained, and intrigued.
Good stuff.

::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::
::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::
::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::
::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::

"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
DON'T GO!"

::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::

"NO REALLY, DON'T GO!"
::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::
::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::::push::


::sigh::" everyone goes away.. I just don't understand."

it was a month to the day.
That's fucked up. march 10th was the day I made the post that prompted Karl to message me and talk to me about self censorship, the night before being a huge bawling fight/talk with Chad.
april 10th was the day I made the post about the raging freak out fight that had happened the night before that was really just the end without me knowing it was the end.


That's fucked up.

I found an article all about lomography in the airline magazine.
It was dutifully ripped out. ::nods::

I'm in a horribly foul mood.
I don't know if it's just the sweeping resurgance of feeling sick, my sudden desperate cravings for cigarettes, the fact that my life is a pile of shit and I've no motivation to change it, or that I'm just pmsing or something.

I guess it doesn't matter what the cause is, as I really don't want to talk about it. I've been doing nothing but talking about my feelings. The tiniest of things have been causing tear stains on any willing shoulder and that just makes me feel so weak and small and pathetic and everything that I really really don't like about most people.

So.

I think I'll shut the hell up for a bit, read some books, get my shit together and try to stop sticking my dirty hands into things and trying to make them move the way I want them to.

I have to remind myself that rivers don't change course just because I'm around. And I have to quite being so fucking angry at that fact.