Sunday, December 28, 2008 7:15:29 AM
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
I'm sitting up at 6:45AM reading On the Road because I am trying to reset my sleep schedule. I plan to stay up until 11:00PM or so and sleep until 11:00AM or so. Hopefully this works out for me. I'm thinking that I can probably do this naturally, seeing as how I woke up at 5:30PM yesterday, but I may end up brewing a pot of coffee. I think I'll also go out and buy some breakfast this morning because I always like to go do that when I'm able (since I'm usually not up early enough to).
We fumed and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess—across the night, eastward over the Plains, where somewhere an old man with white hair was probably walking toward us with the Word, and would arrive any minute and make us silent.
I had an okay time in Crestview. A better time than I had anticipated anyways. Christmas was rather sparse, but I'm not upset over it considering my parents pay for my apartment and car, just paid for my sisters 16th birthday party, and the economy is in the shitter. At any rate, I finally got some money to buy some more RAM for my computer, so I'm happy. Not to mention, I got a wok and a cookbook by Alton Brown, so I can maybe try my hand at some more different dishes than I have been cooking.
Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached heaven. Naturally, now that I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake us before heaven. The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death."
I experienced the most bizarre coincidence today. I was on Facebook earlier in the night and noticed that Chris Davis had mentioned to Porter that he was in Peniscola, at his brother's apartment. Since I haven't seen the guy in a while I told him that he should come over and hang out. I figured that he was probably somewhere relatively far away, and that he probably wouldn't be able to get here to hang out or vice versa, but as it turns out, his brother actually lives in the Foutains too. It was really weird how it played out online in conversation, and I'm sure I'm not translating that weirdness to here very well, but I assure you it was very odd. Anyways, we hung out and played Rock Band 2 and watched some of It's Always Sunny and had a pretty good time.
It is 7:00AM now and I getting tired. Hm. I may have to run up to the Hardee's down the road and have some coffee and breakfast.
