y control.

you know, this whole insomnia thing is only charming for the first week or so. after that i just feel like i want to die. no, i feel like i could die. 

i wish i was coherent enough to give this post a theme and artfully piece together a work of clever, vividly detailed prose. instead i think i'm just going to purge whatever's in my head because let's not kid ourselves, purging is an art i am familiar with. internet word vomit - that's what al gore invented the internet for, right? and please, spare me your cracks about the internet being made for porn. have you seen internet porn lately? it's a truly sad state of affairs.

tonight after clark left my house i found myself sitting on my porch with one of my cats and a glass of inexpensive but delightfully tasty wine in hand. normally i would use that opportunity to call a friend i'd been meaning to call back or reading for a bit or inviting someone over, but instead i just sat. i sat and watched the sky. yes, i realize how embarrassingly cliche and vapid that sounds. initially i was drawn to it by noticing how quickly the clouds were moving. that led to me wondering approximately how quickly they were moving, which reminded me how quickly the earth moves. need i remind you that the earth both spins and rotates simultaneously? i tried to reconcile in my mind what i knew with what i was seeing: knowing how impossibly fast our planet moves and how far away things really are with how still the earth feels, and how languidly the clouds ambled across that limitless backdrop. what i knew and what i saw could not converge at that moment; it was beyond my mental capacity. regardless, i was content and comforted to think of such things. then my phone rang.

well i was wrong, it never lasts and this is no - there is no - modern romance.

i will do my best to ensure a proper update on all of the things that are happening when i get home from work, but it may not happen. i am obligated by the scornful eye of crom to attend a show tonight, though i would largely prefer takeout and a quiet night on my couch. i've got to stop with all of the happy garden. i mean, seriously. i can't tell if i'm actually gaining weight or just retaining ungodly amounts of water from all of the sodium, but i'll tell you one thing - the other day while i was getting dressed, i think i saw my mirror shed a tear. my scale trembles at the thought of the fury waiting to be unleashed when i finally have the gall to step on it again.

before i pass out, here is the only evidence of my weekend. brian and i at an 80s party on the south side on friday night. i told someone while at the party that 80s themed fêtes really just incite in me this incredible urge to listen to the smiths and make out. the closest i got to that was listening to the smiths and blowing on brian's outstretched tongue after the consumed impossible amounts of an already impossibly palatable hot sauce. those things did not occur at the same time. brian always looks flawless. i look like a zombie with flushed cheeks.