Friday, July 13, 2007
Night Life
Ow! I feel good! Duh! Nuh! Nuh! Nuh! Nuh! Nuh! Nuh! I knew that I would!
To quote the Godfather of soul whose remains I believe should have enough drugs left in them to make the Columbian Cartel look like schoolyard pushers, "I feel good!"
God dammit, now that song is going to be stuck in my head for a while. Which is unfortunate, because like many other upbeat, well-known and overused songs, it makes me want to pour hot tar down my ears. And since it's playing in my head, I want to pour it in my skull.
Fuck... now I don't feel good anymore.
Kidding! Not even that can bog me down. I'm feeling quite well. And it's because I'm back to being eternally nocturnal. I'd been having to sleep early, or experiment with turning in early and waking up in the early hours of the day so I can have the world to myself. But that's been outright disastrous. First off, I find myself glued to my bed in the morning. Then when I get up, I'm plagued with anxiety, because you see, it's summer, and the sun tends to come up disturbingly early.So I wake up in the pale mornings feeling anxious that it will be blindingly bright soon, and people will be up again to throw me out of whack, and to throw me out of being a whackjob. This has lead to me, feeling quite numb and unproductive or underproductive. Around my brain feels numb, and that screws me up real good, it causes things to happen, like earthquakes in Gallowmere which leave me on a tiny island. An Island with just enough room for me to stand, and hardly that. Oblivion surrounds me, and if I try to step off into it, I see myself falling down a bottomless pit and somehow landing back on the island, only with land much farther from me than last time, so I find myself staring blankly for hours.
But alas, I have returned to burning the midnight oil. Gallowmere isn't like most lands. It is lunar powered. Instead of solar cells, it has lunar cells. It has to be dark, and the moon must be able to reveal itself alone to recharge its batteries. As well, Mr. Gallows has to be utterly alone and at ease of not being interrupted by the daily affairs of others to be rejuvenated. When demands are met, he rises buoyantly in the night to use his powers of doom to tickle the world to death with his humour of the dark.
I've felt so much better and if all things go as planned, I will be able to complete or at least spew out sizable amounts of the multitude of projects I have been working on (but won't talk about!) into the rest of the world this summer. My black, venomous, and somehow humourous vomit will end up making its way down your water system and you'll end up drinking it, whether you like it or not.
Until then, have a good night. I sure know that I'm having one!
