MedicinalVodka

On outings and subjects with or without you.

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Most deceitful were the heart, if anyone ever knew it.

Jeremiah 17:9; mv version

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It's nice being broke when depressed because then I can't spend any money on my depression. *cough* Alcohol *cough*.

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Voting for ignoramus, and human, thus such, ad infintum.

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Y'all ever regret the act of voting?

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'The world,' he would remark to her a few weeks into their acquaintance, 'is a terrible place and it was our misfortune to be have been born into it.' 'Still, the sun is out,' she would reply then, smiling at him. 'So there's that at least.'

John Boyne's The Heart's Invisible Furies

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Some guy asked me if I was gay. I said no. He said you look gay. I said I like girls. He said you must get the most gorgeous girls then. I said OK. He said his boss said his drill went out and he said his boss said anal is the last option. I said right. He said he likes lickin girls asses. I said alright. He said you like lickin girls asses? I said missionary is fine. He said hes from El Passo. I said you got the accent. He said you gay? I said no I like girls still. He said im a son of a bitch. I said im a son of a coupling. He said you queer? I said im odd yeah. He said so are you gay? I said im into girls. He said you like lickin girls asses? I said no. He said hes a son of a bitch. I said I see that. He said you wanna go get some pussy? I said I have a tabby at home. He said lets go to viewhouse. I said I still have a full beer. He said ill buy you another. I said im catching my lightrail soon. He said to the bartender get us two more. He said im weird and like lickin girls asses. I said I suppose you do. He said you gotta sleep with the hottest girls. I said the lights are usually off. He said lets go get some. I said I have ta catch my lightrail. He said ill buy you a drink. I said I have two full beers. He exclaimed. He said you just gotta get a lot of girls. I said depends on the season. He said lets go. I said I have two full beers. He says you like anal? I said I havent tried it. He said you like lickin girls assholes? I said I like missionary and I said et cetera. He said I like lickin assholes and he said you wanna go to viewhouse. I said I have two beers. He said to the bartender can I pay out. He said you gay? I said I like girls. He said what do sensitive guys like you do? I said we drink on nights like this. He said hes an oil man. I said I go to school and I said I make coffee. He said you wanna get some women? I said one day. He exclaimed and walked drunkenly off.

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Don't you ever wish you could just get coffee with fellow tumblrs?

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Chasing a corporate job. Because my shoes are falling apart. I can't buy new ones just now. When my heavy readership on tumblr doesn't want me to just give up vodka for shoes. No. Can't do that to them. Must stay medicated or the writership will become the same as ever. That's why I go to school. To be professed all the different of others, nobody the same. Need the corporate job for bigger prescriptions, bigger shoes, walking further. I mean lurching firther. When a year from then I hate it I'll have shoes. Maybe a suit. And a belt to keep my pants up. Maybe I'll afford food and my pants will just stay up. When, would a maid query, the market changes, I'll the same. Older maybe, which comes with more medicines. Don't tell anyone, but I actually drink whiskey. Used to find purchase for scotch. Going corporate for shoes, though. Need some shoes for winter.

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The rather high pitch the sound the heater makes and sniffing from sittersby or their phone talking. The bumbling jerking and swaying left and right and back again. The security guy who checks my pass always gives me a look because my picture is all faded from my wallet or whatever other wear. Sun dropping below a cloud and through the window stabs my poor eyes. Pass a railyard everyday. One of my favorite sights. Numerous tracks with trains with myriad cargo containers of various colors and signature graffiti tags and of course ugly dark yellow Union Pacific engine cars. Remember that scene in Atlas Shrugged? Various trees weeping or coughing and probably soughing had we been outside to hear them. The glittering rippling of a pond like a quantum field and the ducks passing right through. Where are all these people going? And the doors open and we just diffuse into the world. Much like cream in coffee or smoke in air or any number of comparisons. But unlike all those diffusings we all come back together tomorrow. The doors will open and we will condense to seats and sniffle and phone talk and heat.

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Droves take escalators, shepherds the stairs.

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I don't care what you think of me, but what you tell me.

-mv

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I kill my characters by having them jump off from tops of buildings, but I do so thinking they can fly.

-mv

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Some time make the mistake of not learning from it.

- mv

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knitting that jumper, exurb1a

Happiness is oblivion. This state of being is oblivion. There is no notice of time here. There is no worry. Oblivious to everything but the moment and the vein of this happiness. It is not pensive, but entirely far from it, entirely disparate. It is without reflection, for as soon as thought, happiness is waned. Happiness is completely fluid, from the cuff expression, flux and new. It is easy to become and easier to detach. It is a sense of being, created by emotional chemicals, like any other feeling. It is not demanding, besides demanding the passing time, but is dependent on a variable of sources. Still, what it is, I don't know. If I were happy, at any time, I would ask, What is this? and I would only answer, It is this, it is now. My cheeks contract, and my body spasms with uncontrollable tremors. It feels good. I can't taste it or touch it. It sometimes sounds like a duck or goose quacking, or a squealing, and looks as if one is squinting with raised cheeks in half convulsions. It is simple. So simple, it is oblivious.

-mv

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The exact quote from Macbeth I had posted previously was later jokingly quoted in the play Educating Rita which I was sent to yesterday for review. god jested my pretentions last night. Asshole.

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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ And then is heard no more. It is a tale/ Told by an idiot, full of sound and furry,/ Signifying nothing.

Macbeth V.v 27-31

W. Shakespeare

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I am the dark bags under your eyes, the early wrinkles in your face, that dry skin you can't fight. I am the sleepless nights, the feverish anxiety attacks. I am the draw that pulls you under each night.

You are useless against me. You fight and scream and scratch and I am impervious to your efforts. You want to flush me down the drains, to turn your back on me, to never go back. You want to die from my stranglehold.

There is nothing you can do.

I am your greatest grip to life and you can't let go. I am your worst habits, your malign temptations, your hopeless hope. I will devour you that you seem so fit to be.

I am your devil on both shoulders.

You have nothing over me.

FUCK YOU I WILL GET OUT OF THIS