I miss my friends that are away in far off places... the random ones where we would smoke doobies and play meaningless trivia games, the ones I would grab pie with at 3am, drink wine and eat tacos at midnight, the ones I would lay in bed with and chat for hours.
Maybe I was wrong in thinking that this someone I'm with can be all of those, cause that's not him and now I don't know what to do.
On another note...
I picked this up a week ago... the first Will Self book I have read, next on my list is his "How the Dead Live".
I have gotten through 3 of the stories -
North London Book of the Dead
Ward 9
Ur - Bororo
The first two definitely left me feeling creepy - not stalker like, more like being haunted. I guess anything that involves a living dead mother and being perceived as almost insane, w/out your drug induced brain realizing it, will do that. 'Ur - Bororo' was pleasant - an anthropologist of a friend that finds an Amazonian tribe to be everything opposite of ethnic and unique.
Last night I tried to touch on the main story 'Quantity Theory of Insanity', but the jargon made me want to pick up something else. I guess I have to be in the right mood - aka not disgruntled with my counterpart. From this guy's spiel -
"The Quantity Theory of Insanity itself is so self-evident as to be brilliant: there is only so much sanity and insanity in the world. When someone sane becomes less sane, someone insane gets saner."
- interesting enough to take another stab at it.
Thursday is the new turdsday.
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