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I was listening to my music this afternoon. I sat drunkenly, quietly, cooking and drinking Revs and thinking perhaps I'm not so bad after all. Perhaps I'm a giant. A gifted meta-human with the touch to another dimension. A god who walks within a human skin. I sipped softly and felt my way through a haze of caffeine and alcohol. Lyrics slid in and out of my forebrain and a constant attention to my soft belly irritated me. What does it mean to mean anything? I looked this up on the internet. Deep subject. My pregnant wife slept soundly on another floor, wrapped in a cocoon of original being, mindless of the vicarious voyeurism, the search for meaning which occupied my selfsame soul. My dull, aching, self-centered and obviously, without fail, psychological blue ballz. Oh for the release of the mindless.
Date Written: March 18, 2006