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sleeper of the sleepers, cannot sleep
Jan. 23rd, 2004 02:31 pmInsomnia STRIKES! Hiya!
Hey! Could it snow some MORE?! Please?! Whoever thinks hell is raging fire and heat is wrong. Hell is cold. Hell is not being able to afford heat in a Wisconsin fucking winter when you live in the basement of an 1800's "mansion". (Yes, yes, at least I have a roof over my head. Fuck off.) The only thing that is keeping me from REALLY being a whiny snatch is the thought that, "Damn, how did people handle living in castles." So yeah, snow, snow, snow.
And I cannot write, write, write. Not fiction, fiction, ficti...ah fuckit. I can't write fiction. I suck. I've written some short pieces for this contest and they all suck, to me they suck. They sound forced. I'm entirely too worried and self-absorbed to concentrate on third person, on someone else's p.o.v., someone else's fucking problems. I am, a cocksquatter. (PROOF: I forgot![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
locopuff's birthday.) Maybe I should just throw in the towel and write a goddamned "memoir". Hell, it worked for Dave Eggers, and he got nominated for a Pulitzer for it. By the way, I'm halfway through that book and it's fab. Yes, fab. I am, A WRITER!
I've had, maybe, 3 hours sleep. I'm slightly annoyed and I can't feel my toes. I'm waiting for a call back from The fucking Olive Garden because I'm desperate and have some grand delusion-illusion that waitressing will be "fun" and "new" and "pay my bills". If I don't get a call, Monday becomes temp agency/donate plasma day. Mark your calenders. The person who just sat down next to me really stinks. I may have to leave soon.
Ian is one-in-a-million. He is my friend, my partner, my lover, sometimes my teacher, occasionally my pupil. He keeps offering to help out, but I'm not that broken yet. I hope we can handle this money-stress situation. Because he's doing really well and I, well, I'm not. But hey, maybe all this shit happens for a reason.
But hey, look, I'm getting better at being shameless...
If anyone can spare a few dollars, my LJ account expires in 10 days. I could charge it, but I only have so much money left on ye olde cards and may need it for, say, food.
As I mentioned my suckage previous, Jen...HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I'm so glad I get to see you soon. 4 SERIOUS THO.
Hey! Could it snow some MORE?! Please?! Whoever thinks hell is raging fire and heat is wrong. Hell is cold. Hell is not being able to afford heat in a Wisconsin fucking winter when you live in the basement of an 1800's "mansion". (Yes, yes, at least I have a roof over my head. Fuck off.) The only thing that is keeping me from REALLY being a whiny snatch is the thought that, "Damn, how did people handle living in castles." So yeah, snow, snow, snow.
And I cannot write, write, write. Not fiction, fiction, ficti...ah fuckit. I can't write fiction. I suck. I've written some short pieces for this contest and they all suck, to me they suck. They sound forced. I'm entirely too worried and self-absorbed to concentrate on third person, on someone else's p.o.v., someone else's fucking problems. I am, a cocksquatter. (PROOF: I forgot
locopuff's birthday.) Maybe I should just throw in the towel and write a goddamned "memoir". Hell, it worked for Dave Eggers, and he got nominated for a Pulitzer for it. By the way, I'm halfway through that book and it's fab. Yes, fab. I am, A WRITER!I've had, maybe, 3 hours sleep. I'm slightly annoyed and I can't feel my toes. I'm waiting for a call back from The fucking Olive Garden because I'm desperate and have some grand delusion-illusion that waitressing will be "fun" and "new" and "pay my bills". If I don't get a call, Monday becomes temp agency/donate plasma day. Mark your calenders. The person who just sat down next to me really stinks. I may have to leave soon.
Ian is one-in-a-million. He is my friend, my partner, my lover, sometimes my teacher, occasionally my pupil. He keeps offering to help out, but I'm not that broken yet. I hope we can handle this money-stress situation. Because he's doing really well and I, well, I'm not. But hey, maybe all this shit happens for a reason.
But hey, look, I'm getting better at being shameless...
If anyone can spare a few dollars, my LJ account expires in 10 days. I could charge it, but I only have so much money left on ye olde cards and may need it for, say, food.
As I mentioned my suckage previous, Jen...HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I'm so glad I get to see you soon. 4 SERIOUS THO.
