Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Feels like Flying, Tastes Like Burning
But my Evil Imperialist Landowners have decided to redo the floors of the place below me. My apartment is awash with woozy fumes on my "day off" and I'm beginning to get a little high. My reality is beginning to get warped to such an extent that I actually believed for a few minutes that my cat was trying to communicate with me. This is, of course, ridiculous since cats don't care whether or not humans can actually speak, as long as the food is delivered, the water changed, and the poop scooped.
The backs of my eyeballs are vibrating.
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