I have the capacity to do nothing but whine and complain. Where did this come from? Laura said the other day she think she's rubbing off on me, and that's what it is. Earlier this week I just thought I was depressed... I have another theory: MY JOB IS SUCKING MY WILL TO LIVE.

But then again, maybe I'm just being a drama queen.

Update: On a related note, along with this general life-dissatisfaction, I have also lost all interest in science, arts, and politics. In general, anything not directly and immediately effecting my being. For instance, when I get a new magazine in the mail, I try and spend at least an hour pouring over it, when I get the chance. This week, I have a new wired in my backpack, and it's sat there, unread, for several days now.

Update to my update: I never had any interest in politics. To have suggested I did was a lie.

boy, my archives were all f'd up when I looked today... I'd just like to take this moment to complain some more about blogger.

In other news, I've got this mum song stuck in my head, so I'm ordering the album from ebay. (Thanks a lot victory shag.) I also found out they're going to be here next wed, so I'm going to try and catch that.

Now I've got a parade to get to.

*tap tap*

Is this thing on?

Last night I wasn't able to publish.

On monday I got a call at work from a stranger. Stranger still, that person was from Drive 105, and they gave me a pair of tickets to see Moby tonight at the Roy Wilkins in St. Paul. Needless to say, that's where I'm headed.

Today, the entire city is a black-lagoon. I am merely one scaly creature, slithering my way down Interstate 394. The sky is some kind of oppressive black curtain that doesn't quite touch the white fuzzy line of the horizon.

But somehow this has only served to brighten my spirits. Either that, or the pendulum of my manic-depression has swooshed onto the manic end of the spectrum--and I'm just at the mercy of various self-created brain-altering chemicals tinting this ugly day a brighter shade of pleasant...

Either way, it's a good day, but still too early.

I got a parking ticket this morning.
My eyes are sticky-rice and Tabasco sauce.
Things are moving in slow-mo.

Broken English is only one reminder
that we are a diverse and interesting populous.

I have no original thoughts.
I am crushed in a swamp
of self-deprecating desolation.

There is a car door open in my head with that annoying *ping* sound repeating indefinitely.

Suddenly I feel like some kind of imposter walking into work today. I don't belong here, obviously, but at home too--Laura cleaned and the entire apartment is foreign. It was (and still is) one of those "how did I get here?" moments. What the hell am I doing here?