musical experiment

Right this very moment, I'm wondering if I can type a blog entry whilst listening to the Scissor Sisters. Either I'll start getting funktastic, or switch to my Tao playlist because it's much more mellow.

Do I even need mellow?

Tonight, I was an inwardly cranky bitch. I just felt bad. If I wanted to, I could count the reasons why on one hand. But in my head, none of it's really all that simple, and avalanches are the result of one snowflake too many.

I should probably clean my room, but it's nowhere on my list of real priorities. (A list that probably needs some reevaluation anyway.) Fitting that a cluttered head should keep its environs in kind. I kinda feel like I want ravioli, too, but I think we're out of it...

My next day off is next Tuesday. My first instinct was to complain about it, and I know by Tuesday I'll probably be a ball of nerves, but at least I'll feel more useful than I did over my last impromptu hiatus. Le giggity. That and I've got another hiatus coming up in three weeks anyway, followed by a rash of days I'll be off for some reason or another. Highlights include: bridal shower, camping trip, birthday, and a prom. Yes, you read correctly. Con Francis. Am I retarded for agreeing to something so relatively soon? Probably. But, what's the point in living if you don't act on random feelings every now and then, and see where you end up?

I'll have to pull together a tux and such... or do what I tried to do last time and raid the JCPenney men's clearance section. Hey, for the same amount of money, if I can summon a fashionable ensemble together and keep it, why not? I still have my pimp cane from my prom. I definitely plan on it making an appearance.

I really don't know if I can keep up with the Scissor Sisters at this time of night, and/or in this mood. And this is sad, but I've refrained from picking something else because I don't know... fuck it, I'll just revisit Incubus' "Make Yourself." It's been quite some time since I listened to that all the way through, or at least in any sort of consecutive track order.

My legs hurt, but I can't find any other sitting arrangement that's more comfortable. I feel like I want to sleep, make ravioli, hibernate.. who knows. Whilst on the phone earlier, I said that I occasionally delude myself into thinking this will be my last winter spent in Baltimore. I feel like I'm full of crap, because there's almost no way I could pull off a move to a warmer clime, but I can dream, right?

I miss my guitar. But it's out in my car, and I really don't feel like braving the cold to go get it. I'd pick it up, play for five minutes, become overtaken with a wave of uninspiration, and go back to thinking about eating or sleeping, or being in Phoenix. Perhaps it's that self-defeating train of thought that causes the uninspiration to begin with, and it's just a self-perpetuating cycle.

Thus, in order to create something, I have to feel like I can. It should be simple, right?

I love how things in life, more often than not, are perfectly capable of being their own antitheses.

Why am I even writing here? I only know of two readers. If I had ravioli, it'd be ravioli time. But I think I'm going to go make do with something else.

(DB) out.