written by owen on 2007-Sep-04.

For the past couple months I have been trying to become a normal person and its not working out at all. Even my mother seems to have given up on the prospect of onetime status quo. People have even been saying that I have not been paying them enough attention as if they are illegitamate children that I forgot to remember while lost in the jungle of my mind's eyes. I miss my muse like I miss the smell of freshly cut grass on a square foot of lawn.

If another one of my exs has a bastard child by a random stranger out of wedlock I am going to marry the first girl that thinks not calling everyday is normal. I don't know why. I have issues like everybody else. But unlike common people my issues are specific and redundantly obvious like the fact that there are no monkeys in Jamaica - literally speaking. My issues don't just popup at random, they live with me forever as if an irreplacable limp that grows out of my face. Figurately your just a poor loser and maybe this is good for you because I hear love makes you tired.

The other night live music was playing just below the limit where my ears was starting to bleed. Trying to revive what little creativety I had left. I haven't written for weeks. I was talking to the girlfriend of the guy that was on the keyboard, while sipping on the complimentary local drink/half liquor. In the pursuit of normalcy I often put astray my own desires for sake of not being locked away in the far corner of the office near the water cooler. If they had a water cooler by which to be placed at, by beside, upon, henceforth thereafter. Though I'd never thirst for the quickness there in, oh fountain of joy.

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