posted by dave on Friday, July 25, 2008 at 1:10 AM in category daily, ramblings

Please don't do it.

I wish I had some magic words, but I've already said too much. Way too much, and it still wasn't enough.


Got a nice black leather sofa from BadPickleGirl today. It's in my basement, where it will displace this one ugly chair, after I move the shelves away from that wall.

My cat Nugget is scared of the new sofa, of course. I'm hopeful that his fear will keep him from shredding it to bits. At least for a couple of weeks, until he figures out that it's leather and therefore edible.


Dammit, this is supposed to be my fucking journal. My fucking outlet. It's not supposed to be some stage where I perform for my audience's amusement. And there's definitely no fucking script.


One of the ways that I know I'm in a very weird mood is when I start thinking in metaphors. Like tonight, I started thinking about how I jumped out of a perfectly good lifeboat because I thought I saw the glimmer of a lighthouse on the horizon.

The lifeboat moved away, and the glimmer proved false, and now my lungs fill with water.

Sometimes metaphors are fun. And sometimes they're useful.

And sometimes they're nothing but stupid.


I pretty much have to accept that people lied to me for years. I wonder why they did that. Was it to make me feel better? Was it to get me to shut the fuck up?

Or maybe, just maybe, they didn't know they were lying at all.


I've been on-call all week. It blows.


Speaking of glimmers, I like this entry, from 2005:

When you live your life in total darkness, it doesn't take much.

The smallest spark, the slightest flash of light, can capture your full attention. Even after it's gone, the memory of that flash lives on.

Sometimes that flash is welcomed, but most times, most times it's only reminding you of what's missing.

A man gone blind does not always wish for sight, for there can be comfort in the dark.

Acceptance. Tranquility. Peace. All erased by a spark, a glimmer, a splash of light that does nothing but burn the retinas and leave ghost images floating and intruding.

A flash is nothing by itself. It's over in an instant. But the memory of it lingers, and the blind man sometimes wishes he could forget.

I think I need to consult a thesaurus more often.


I should try to sleep now. I hope I don't dream.

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