baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Damn the ring of the phone! So, I have mold in my throat and tonight, the cats eat canine food. I long ago swore I'd stop trying to figure out the intricate maze that is the feline mind-but sometimes I just wanna pick them up by the scruff of their furry little necks and say: "Your food is more expensive you crazy little shit!" But, they pay me no quarter and no mind. They love the canned dog food. They purr their little purs as I scoop that stuff into their bowls; the same purrs that warm my chest as I slip into dreamland, their weight balanced between Girl Unit and I. I know that life doesn't get much better than the moment when the house is still and my body is weighed down by two sweet cats and girl-unit's arms. It's a little self-contained paradise that I treasure down to my bones. And if I were a cat, I'd purr as well. ________________________________________________________ Right now, there's an annoying banner flashing at the top of this page. It's begging me to point, click and read some new diary. Ha! As if I don't have enough addictions in my life. Go away vile distraction! I have no more time left to donate to voyeurism. ________________________________________________________ The air is moist and I feel alive. I love the rain. I love the sound of cars going down a wet road. I love the smell of the air. I love the look of rain clouds in the sky. _________________________________________________________ Forgive me for wandering. Lately I've been playing with my thoughts so much that they run away from me. Damn childlike little nymphs that they are. Teasing me with promises of creativity and brilliance. Then running off to some dusty corner of my mind that I can't find. Someday I'll tame these bastards and then watch out! I'll be kicking some serious creative buttock, baby. I'll be brilliant. Imaginative. Perplexing. Sexy. And damn funny to boot. Until then-I'll have to wait until I gather enough flashes of brilliance to light up the whole damn planet. _________________________________________________________ It's 9:09 on a friday night and I'm alone. But, that's not a bad thing. Sometimes I spend so much time with others that I forget who I am. Am I the person in my cubicle? Thinking about flow, design and clarity? Am I the person in my car? Speeding down the 91 singing at the top of my lungs with whatever melody happens to be on the radio? Am I the person holding hands with Girl-Unit? So lost in her companionship that my individuality fades to pastel? Am I the musician on stage? With my eyes closed and my ears open? Or am I the son kissing mom on the forehead? Struggling at the inadequacy of "I Love You's" and "See you in the morning's." Knowing I love her more than ever before, but struggling against the expression. _________________________________________________________ My chest feels tight and my throat is scratchy. The cubicle equivalent of The Great Flood hit my tiny little corporate world this past week and I feel the proof in the cavities of my lungs. This can't be good. Little spores floating around all day-in and out of my nose. My mouth. But, one must be a little brave in the face of such annoyance. I risk my health in much more dangerous ways. _________________________________________________________ The phone rings and I must go ignore it. Goodnight! 7:49 p.m. - 2002-04-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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