Out On The Tiles

Heh. W, you amuse me.

On one hand -
I really can't read you.
I want to, so I can tell if you're wanting.

But on the other -
This could be a cool thing, I think I like you.

What is wrong with me?

What am I supposed to base myself on?

How am I supposed to know what I want when I can't really remember what I like?

I guess what I really want is to be wanted...

Never gonna happen.

How I Made My Millions

Maybe I...

I want to type something good.
I really do.

I have all of these thoughts and feelings and -

And they're all trapped in my head.

A Reminder (Polyethylene)

"That's pretty much romance ... somebody you can talk to without either of you thinking the other is crazy or tiring."

Someone said this about The Office but somehow it resonates true through life for me. I mean - I don't plan on birthing any watermelons or anything, but maybe I'm fucked up enough for this to apply.

I want everyone to know that I absolutely love this quote, it the sort of thing that just makes sense to me.

Win My Train Fare Home

A terminal lack of luck might not actually be a real thing.

Not real in the way that anybody will actualy diagnose it, anyway.

It is most definitely a real thing in the sense that it exists.

You see, for the most part I am living proof of it.

I wonder if there's a cure.

Karma Police (II)

Maybe I'm a karmic well.

Everyone around me is doing wonderfully, yet here I am.

Alone.

Desire

I think I may be the least wanted man on the face of the planet.

I don't know for sure.
But I really do wonder if there is someone out there right now thinking of me. Desiring me. Wanting me.

Somehow, I don't think so.

Fuck You Corn

So I pretty much got into a fight with my dinner.

I wish I was being funny.

Here's the recap I sent to Blake on Facebook:

That fucking corn.
Little bastard spilled himself on my shorts.
Wash the little bitch off.
I'm trying to stab that douche and no, he's gonna fucking bend.
Then he throws my fork on the floor. 
Too bad for him there was a clean one in the drawer.

Suffice to say I showed him who is fucking animate.

Okay, this is me making it a little bit funny.
I have to be funny publicly.

But the recap is pretty much correct.

Afterwards I coughed up a lung.

Now I'm nearly sure that my parents think I'm on drugs.

W

All right, W.

You're just like 1001.
I can't read you.
I can't see into you like I can with everyone else.
However, if I have any luck, this is just a yet -

It might not be and then...

Then I've missed an opportunity. Forever?

Maybe you can read me though. Maybe that's why I can't read you. You might be one step ahead.
On the other hand, you didn't try to writhe away from me today.

The worst part though, is that I think you might be as sane as I am.
Which, of course, would be a beautiful thing.