i can't help but feeling, i could blow through the ceiling, if i just turn and run...
Lately whenever I try to sit down and write, my mind starts wandering into fantasy land (which is where most of my daily living takes place, unfortunately). In the physical realm, I’m just staring at the blinking cursor on a blank computer screen. In fantasy land, however, I’m immersed in a myriad of activity: replaying conversations and images and senses and feelings and words in my mind. On and on it goes until I eventually take notice of the little clock in the bottom corner and realize that an hour has passed and that I’ve accomplished exactly nothing.
What usually snaps me out of it is actually this awful daydream that I sometimes have. Whenever I’m thinking about how I might be on the verge of happiness- I have this waking dream (not a drug-induced hallucination, by the way darlings) that the ceiling is caving in on me. When I’m sitting at the computer, lost in fantasy land, sometimes I’ll lean back and in my mind I see the ceiling of my apartment crumbling above me piece by piece (a la 40 days and 40 nights) It’s not as terrifying as it might sound. Mostly it’s just disappointing. And that’s how it ends- I’m buried in concrete and stucco and all I can manage is a mildly irate sigh. And then it’s back to reality.
reality is for suckers
What usually snaps me out of it is actually this awful daydream that I sometimes have. Whenever I’m thinking about how I might be on the verge of happiness- I have this waking dream (not a drug-induced hallucination, by the way darlings) that the ceiling is caving in on me. When I’m sitting at the computer, lost in fantasy land, sometimes I’ll lean back and in my mind I see the ceiling of my apartment crumbling above me piece by piece (a la 40 days and 40 nights) It’s not as terrifying as it might sound. Mostly it’s just disappointing. And that’s how it ends- I’m buried in concrete and stucco and all I can manage is a mildly irate sigh. And then it’s back to reality.
reality is for suckers
posted by diadima at 11:49 AM
6 Comments:
Does everyone think freaky things like this? 'Cause I do, too. I thought I was the only one.
So, do those happy people who seemingly don't have a care or a worry in the world, do they think things like this, too?
Or do they just cheat on their spouses and have a big breakdown all at once?
I don't know.
I fear stucco... so does my mum... she went on a rampage when she decorated the new house and scrapped it all off.
I mean it wants to STEAL your sound! How scary is that..
fuckin stucco...
The fact is fucking stucco has a lot to answer for, and I think we can all agree at least on that, the fuck.
Anyway. Take everything that you imagine that I could ever mean to you, and then add a little bit. Then work the sum: I care how much you think I care times a jabazillion. Now, if I'm the ceiling, you reckon you have a fucking chance of running it?
Eh?
ubie: everyone does it, no one admits to it. i try to limit my admissions to things that won't make me sound COMPLETELY insane. but believe me, we're all loons, in one way or another.
lmk + owl: yeah stucco...grrrrr
Is that a picture of one of McMaster's buildings?
nonvocabulum: no madam. in fact, it is a picture of an archway belonging to a church on bloor street in toronto.
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