good times with weapons

There is something in the air. I can taste it on my unintended tongue. Something like a sodium cocoyl isethionate... stearic acid, something like a coconut. Sodium tallowate, sodium isethionate, sodium stearate. Aqua. There's a cocamidopropyl betaine cocoate or kernelate, parfum of some kind, sodium chloride? Tertrasodium! Tetrasodium etidronate.

Dissects of oneself on a steady day by day basis. Yourself teetering between some pretty terrifying and depressive evenings where sleep is slowly but surely a long distance away. This past week I’d like to tell you about things. Unfortunately they didn’t happen. I spent most of my time in bed for the better part of the week. My dependence on this website and for it to be running as something more functional is a struggle. If you're familiar with keeping websites up to date, you may know of the constant tapping on the head. The endless lack of concentration. That especially if you're me. After finishing an entry... honestly, I couldn’t see myself the next day doing the same as last, I couldn’t see myself later that same day.

And then, one night in October like today, I have a few beers and climbed the stairs to the tiny room that housed my bed and my ancient cpu. I had taken a few moments to check my e-mail and facebook, both are covered in cob webs. To tell you the truth, instead of blogging I'd rather be sorting out my priorities instead of having the echo inside of me began to grow louder and louder.

The other night I remember having this very lucid dream. To say the least, it was a nightmare unfolding with realizations of my self destructive behaviour. Stubbornly I told my disheveled self, despite the fact that you're suffering from an ever growing deterioration of a mental state and sheer exhaustion it's best if you continue to exhibit your talent in art no matter how despicable, or unhappy you may be. You play on it, man.