can i just copy the tumblr post?

hey. hi.

i’m back.  i have like almost two weeks of stuff to look through, so the queue is probably going to be weird for a day or so, and then is going to be all “i saw this shit already, sammy” for a few days.

deals with it, ok?

i want waffles?

taking some time off

i'll be gone for a bit starting tomorrow.  nothing big, just travelling a bit.  the tumblr will probably run out, as i probably won't be able to get new stuff into it.

so if you're here because you were annoyed that the tumblr isn't tumblring, that's why.

if you're here because you're annoyed that i am bad at writing new things, i'm hoping i can relax some and get my brain into better shape.  go read old things so you'll be ready when new things show up.  i know i have to do that every time i sit down to write more.

hey, i know the answer is "no," but:

does anyone else watch that carmilla youtube show i mentioned at some point in the past?

did you watch this most recent episode 30 from season 2?

did i miss something somewhere?  i thought they were about to try and do something, but now the mean sister is dead?

what?

like, did i seriously miss five episodes or something?

i am so confused, and don't understand what's going on, and all sorts of other similar thoughts.

maybe all the bowie/queen/beatles i listened to as a kid broke me somehow, but

i kind of like the rick astley never going to give you up.

this is wrong, right?

it's that "making plans for nigel", "enjoy the silence", "mad world" feel.

like, "we're going to nuclear bomb shit hardcore, so listen to this robot make music at you, and if we survive, we're just going to stop shaving for a few years so you get the pearl jam shit."

right?

and maybe my parents should have had better than records.

awkward sigh.

i don't get history.

so. remember how i'm still going crazy, but no one i see in real life notices anything?

guess who's getting a promotion at work?

like "we really appreciate everything you've been doing, sammy, so i'm trying to push through a good raise, and you'll have to do all the paperwork and stuff, but since i'm the one who makes the decision, i think you've got a pretty good chance."

so this is the point where i think i just shrug my shoulders, and accept that the entire world is fucking crazy, and i'm just one of the few people who can see the kuroko shuffling shit around.

i don't know.  yesterday i was planning on if i could just eat fried chicken until that killed me.  maybe i should eat a salad tomorrow?

random thoughts, plus another short play.

if you tell me i'm fat, i'm probably going to cry when i get home.  i know i'm fat.  i know i should eat better and exercise and stop buying mcdonalds when i have a hole i need to fill inside.  that's this whole thing.  but you coming out and being all, "you need to lose weight, because you're fat."  that fucking hurts.  no amount of fat is going to cushion that punch to my tummy.


why do people go to the drive-thru and order like 19 meals?  just go inside!  there's an inside there, and you can all eat together and sit on uncomfortable chairs while you eat your shit-food.  some of us need to go home, so no one can see us eat shit food day after day while hoping the stupid organic engines just clog up and kill us.


i've been thinking about suicide a lot more than is probably healthy.  i should go to therapy.  my friend wants me to visit for a vacation, but isn't going to take time off so we can hang out together.  i think she wants me to goad her lazy husband into doing stuff, but i don't think i can deal with that expectation the way i am.  and i don't know if i can just beg out on this without alienating the only person who tries to talk to me ever.

i wish i could just not wake up and let everyone else deal with the messes i've made.


in case that happens:  "exhibition" ends on a super depressing point, but in a way that if you're me, you accept as a stunning redemption.

"spa treatment" will never end, because i will never get to the point where they re-commit themselves for more shit.  because i'm lazy.

the short play:

A: This week ended, all fears begone for us;
let those who tarry, yet enjoy their rest,
this work goes on eternally, go forth,
enjoy this long weekend for all to love.

S: Shall we write a story grand?  Late have we
forgotten our last goals, to live and love,
and spread such love to all that share our view,
that in love, may all that is weird, be free.

But wait!  I spy our water sadly low,
still yet just this bottle found, dry our home:
let us go forth and buy bottles a-new,
bottles to drink and share and love, I pray.

A: Shall we postpone the stories? Let them all
gather formless and grey?  Sit unloved now,
to await a glorious day?  How then,
shall we answer our friends?  Their love awaits?

S: Fuck them, fuck all, fuck all in the ass, shall
we dwell upon their goals, upon their schemes?
Or shall our stories breathe the life we give,
and soar into the sky we light with stars?



ok, that's enough of that.  seriously.  fake shakespeare is harder than i thought it.

so much counting.

the third-to-last sentence only works with one pronunciation of "seriously"

so suddenly this thought:

how, if you close your eyes, and think of yourself, you can kind of envision a universe of "you," where you have these slices of reality shooting out from you, where you recognize that this slice is this one thing that makes the you you are the you you are.

"fucking christ, sammy.  you said you were going to stop drinking, because you've again fucked up your liver!"

yes.  i did.  and i'm trying.  but trying involves diluting vodka with tea.  tea apparently is full of caffeine.  i'm bad at everything i do.

but that bad is this "mostly square, but has these weird blocky juts that stick out" shape that's colored black and is down there.  like, imagine you're flying.  and all of you is colored differently, and takes up different bits of the sky.  that shitty bit is down there, and it's this big square because it's slowly consuming my me.  and it's black, because it's not a healthy thing.

and that music i heard is that tiny zig-zag shape that i remember from long ago.  it's over to the left and up a bit.

new title:  "sorry.  i think i'm going crazy.  like, losing connection with reality crazy.  sorry.  i'll try to hold my ducks together better."

fucking christ, people

wake up, check mail, flood of annoying bullshit.

dude who keeps pestering me to "blackmail" him somehow?  check.  dude, i don't care about you, and i'm not sure "reads my shitty porn blog" is something i can blackmail you with.  i'd have to find your friends and family, and research shit, and fuck it.  i have neither the time nor the motivation to set up the stupidest hobby in the world.  

another random marketing jerk wanting me to promote a product on my blog?  check.  these i just don't understand.  if i want to get people interested in my shitty "screen capture software" ('P.S. Don't change text in the link. It should be "Screen Capture Software"', fuck you jenny.  fuck you and fuck your capital letters.), i'd probably find someone who had ever in their life mentioned screen capture software.  and if i do put in the link, i get a free copy?  woo!  according to the review i found, "I think that it is just a Russian scam."  but just imagine all the things i could do with "screen capture software".  i could put up videos of me typing out my next story, only to end the video with me deleting everything because i don't like it.  wouldn't that be fun?

another notice from that one twitter bot that keeps following and unfollowing me so they can follow me again?  check.  this seems like if they added a feature to my fridge that would have it periodically beep sadly until i went over and pet it.  you're not a real person, so stop being so needy.

i hate it when

i have to not drink so i can pass the tests my doctor insists on making me do, "because your liver level is elevated."

i'm so much happier when i don't have to think about sleep, he just sits down on the bed next to my insensate self.  you know, "just pick me up if you're in the neighborhood," kind of stuff.

not this dull ache of loneliness and despair at 1:30 in the morning.  i don't like it when existential boredom just shows up on my couch, and is just like, "i'll just watch some infomercials with the volume turned down really low and wait.  i know how this ends."

so. hey. here's me again, on this side of drunk.

the side you expect i'm on.  if you're over here too, then, hey, cool.  thanks for your support.

tonight i was working late.  my boss stopped by, "goodnight, sammy"

"gnight"

the screech of shoes on the floor.

"oh, did you get the email about the telecon at 9pm tonight?"

"what?  no?"

"yeah.  we're doing a telecon tonight at 9.  on skype"

"i don't have a skype."

"so send me your skype when you login."

"what?"

so, too long stupid short, fuck you, boss.

i'm not going to fuck up my evening to call in to some shit ass telecon you couldn't be bothered to tell me about until two hours before it happens.  just

omg

fuck you so fucking hard.


christ, why are you such a fucking jackass?

a short (drunk) one act play.

Scene: Sammy's place, where she has been cleaning up trash in anticipation of an undesired visit from contracted cleaners who are going to clean vents.

The bugs:

Dear Samantha fair, who lives above us,
Tell us what sin we hath perpetrated,
Such that on these days you tear down our houses,
Anguish our children, and cast out your friends?

Samantha:

Dude, wait, what?  When last have you paid me rent?
Or fucking tidied up the tiniest,
Of this apartment in which we do dwell,
I mean, you're kind of just fucking slackers.

The bugs:

But Samantha, we had a deal set fast
In stone,

Samantha:

                 What no?  Since when did we deal such?

The bugs:

Since we have forgiven you many sins?

Samantha:

What sins do you lie at my feet tonight?

The bugs:

Do you remember the one named Bob?

Samantha:

Bob?  What name is that, that I should recall?

The bugs:

Do you remember the candle you lit,
All aglow with its shining luminence?

Samantha:

Many candles have I lit.  Many more
Have I extinguished.  You speak of one though?

The bugs:

Do you recall the tweezers?  Gripping strong?

Samantha:

And the candle?  Shall I forget that now?

The bugs:

Bob was slack that day.  You caught him up fast.

Samantha:

Did I then?  To what purpose this action?

The bugs:

To carry him, struggling, to the fire's maw.

Samantha:

Alight, then, I set him?  To burn for sins?

The bugs:

What sins, awful tyrant?  What have we done?

Samantha:

Sins of contamination.  Sins of greed.
You have made my home your nest, and ruled there;
Set yourself as a rapacious lord there,
And smuggled my bounty for your gain,
                                                                     Where,
Should I have been better at management,
Your children would have starv-ed in the womb,
And your wives widowed and barren till death,
And all your works burned and broken forever,
Your lives wasted in the pursuit of death.