don't I said

Another bundle of emailed resumes. Let us hope that something will come of it soon.

Yesterday, I managed to sleep about twelve hours, get up for three or so, and then spend another seven hours in bed. Obviously, I should not take the little orange flavored pill unless I feel like giving up a day and a half. Even after all that sleep I still felt a bit stoned, spacey. A pity my health insurance wouldn't cover that.

So I'm engaged in endless RP of Doom madness, such as trying to figure out a timeline for the characters, who is older than who, when did they get together, who got married when, etc, etc. Hectic but amusing. My sanity has also been eaten up by the alternate plotting, which is more of an excuse to write hysterical lines than anything else. I think we are well over 20,000 words now.

I have a new copy of Gourmet I need to read, and recipes to contemplate. All I want is someone to pay to me to hang around their home, cook, do the laundry and be my delightful self. I could deal with that, really.

I just want out of this skin and this life and this body and this world.

I'm in that mood where I just want to listen to something loud and screaming, and leave the television on the Headline News loop for hours while I run around. I suppose I should expect this kind of thing for watching Velvet Goldmine over and over and listening to things like Megadeth in the middle of the day.

It's not dark enough yet to turn on the lights. I should clean the apartment but I have to get manic for that these days or I just don't care. I want a lot of things that aren't here. I want you here, so I can feel the skin on the back of your neck with my teeth. I want you here so we can talk about these voices. I want blood. Over and over down on my knees, he said. If you let me inside, there won't be anything to hide. I love it but I hate the taste, he said. I would have to agree. One by one, we all fall down. One by one, we all go back to the beginning. I'm getting close, you know.