“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Monday, August 13, 2007

So I was at the grocery store the other night and had kind of a strange moment.

It was like 2 AM, because that's when I do all my shopping, because I'm the only one there and people fucking suck. Especially people at the grocery store for some reason. At least I wasn't at fucking WalMart though. There's always people there and they suck worse.

Anyhow, I'm in the dairy aisle and I'm looking at the dates on the milk and wondering if I's finish a whole gallon between now and the day of my surgery...


LEFT BRAIN: “Hmm, We're going to be gone for five to seven days so whatever we don't finish will probably go bad before we get back...”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Yeah, but it's not that big a deal. We'll finish most of it and it's not that goddamn expensive anyway.”

LEFT BRAIN: “Well we could get one with a really long date and maybe finish it when we get back...”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Well we may not have to worry about it at all, as we may not be coming back.”

LEFT BRAIN: “Well,yeah, there is that. Maybe get a half-gallon?”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Get the damn milk you analytical homo.”

LEFT BRAIN: “Hey, fuck you! You subjective asshole!”

RIGHT BRAIN: “At least I don't have our shorts in a knot over a lousy gallon of fucking milk!”

LEFT BRAIN: “Well you wouldn't worry about anything would you?”

RIGHT BRAIN: “What do you mean by that?”

LEFT BRAIN: “You spend all our time masturbating!”

PENIS: “HEY!”

RIGHT BRAIN: “See there? You just had to get him involved didn't you?”

PENIS: “WHY THE FUCK AREN'T WE MASTURBATING?”

LEFT BRAIN: “Half-gallon then?”

RIGHT BRAIN: “I guess...”



I often have these little internal conversations. Explains a lot doesn't it?

But it wasn't till after I got home and masturbated that I realized that I've become so complacent with the idea that I might die in this next surgery that it just factored into my fucking shopping and it didn't even register.

That's probably not a good thing is it?

I mean, I suppose it's healthy to accept that something might happen and it's good that I'm not afraid of it, but fuck, I've become so desensitized to the idea that it doesn't impact me at all anymore.

Eh. No point in worrying about it now. Only got 11 days left anyhow...


LEFT BRAIN: “See that? I blame you for that attitude.”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Me?”

LEFT BRAIN: “Yes, you! You and your defeatist attitude!”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Fuck you! I'm tired of your shit!”

ME: “Uhh, guys? We're kinda done with the brain internal-conversation gag.”

LEFT BRAIN: “Fucking Jerk...”

RIGHT BRAIN: “Tell me about it...”



Sorry about that. Anyhow, in the interest of getting my house in order before I go, I'd like to dedicate a song to my first love. Things ended really badly and every interaction since then has been awkward and uncomfortable. So much so that I've avoided her altogether for several years now.

And while I could be smug and take pleasure in knowing that she's still exactly where I left her while I've moved on, I'm not a heartless bastard. I still care, in my own way, as I hope this song will get across:



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Heh, I'm just kidding. I don't really care.

Burn in hell you stupid cunt! :D

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