A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- when the shit hits the fan creeping sensations, foreboding. i don't know what's coming but something unpleasant seems to be lurking on my horizon. maybe i'm being paranoid, who knows? after all, i am only six weeks out from another birthday, and fucked up shit congregates around that time of they year for me, conversely august and september seem to be my only generally "safe" spots on the calendar I'll be prepared like the evil antithesis of an eagle scout; my preparedness list, in no particular order: *2-3 weeks cash reserve and up to date resume: check *mental off-switch: check *emotions set to neutral: check *cynicism: check *groin cup: check *suspension of disbelief: check *2-3 weeks supply of liquor: check *poker-face: check if nothing bad happens before a given period of time, great.. but if anything does happen to me this time this year, i'm going to be the most stone-cold stoic motherfucker alive. Nobody's gonna see me sweat if it gets hot, worse comes to worst, nobody's gonna see me bleed. now, for the sake of all things being equal, i just have to hope that my foreboding sense doesn't become self-fulfiling prophecy 4:48 p.m. - 2003-02-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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