Git 'Cho Ass ta Bed

Here we are again and it's 4 a.m. I've just finished posting my latest reviews. I imagine they'll get smarmier, snappier, more personal and provocative until I get super lucky and get discovered and then I'll have to tone them down for the masses on Respectable Street. Happens to everyone. Besides, I'm already inclined to be more to the conservative side when it comes to expression (actually, that depends). Sometimes I think YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH *ahem* and sometimes I just think I don't want to come across as someone with "issues" and has to be "on" all the time or be a spectacle (a spectacle on Respectable?). Maybe this is where therapy could assist. I LOVE attention. I LOVE privacy. I don't have a balance of either. It's too much or too little. I have things to say, sometimes insightful, sometimes funny, sometimes stupid and sometimes ignorant. I feel like I've put myself in a coma for a decade and have only truly emerged (am I a butterfly yet? What the fuck? TEN YEARS. TENNNNN YEARRRRRRSSSSS) around mid-January of this year. I'm in a bit of a holding point at the moment, needing to make a major move VERY soon. Dude, the all-caps is getting dull, clue yourself. Ok. Sorry. Thanks. Are italics ok? See, I WANT you to read this like I'm thinking it. Dig?

Back to our story. Sometimes I stay up goofing off. Sometimes doing work (I just about 2 hrs ago finished a particularly good round of posting to eBay and rewarded myself with a mango, which wasn't very good but better than all the other mangos I've had this year. Some pusher is selling bad mangos and they're on the streets, keeping the youth of American down and on the corners, begging for more mangos, selling their bodies. Babies making babies all for the next hit of a fresh, juicy mango. I'm yo brotha, I'm yo daddy, sell you bad mangos in the alley, I'm yo pusherman. Curtis Mayfield would not approve.)

N. E. Way, last week I was Mr. Angsty so I couldn't sleep when I wanted to, yet, curiously I've also been in a tremendously consistent streak of waking up laughing. Oh how amazing that feels. I should tell you about it sometime. What? Now? Here? Freakin' demanding...

Well. When I (finally) go to sleep I tend to be able to find slumberland very quickly. However, I'll also wake up in about 18-20 minutes and not be able to get back to sleep for a bit. Lately (and frequently) I've been waking up from these unintentional power naps laughing from the dream I'm experiencing. This has happened before, during regular sleeping cycles, not so much in this initial 20 minute sleep sprint. I rarely remember what was making me laugh, but I adore the feeling it gives me. It's occasionally almost as good as kissing someone, pulling back and seeing their face and happily realizing you actually DID (the caps! the caps!) kiss someone and it wasn't just your pillow or the crook of your right arm. Or left. I don't need to know how you do it. That's your business, leave me out of it you lonely freak.

*ahem*

This week (ok, it's only Monday, STOP INTERRUPTING) I'm not so angsty, having great time with co-workers, but I also have to bust a few moves very soon to get a) my summer underway and b) my mojo back in full swing. Time to act. Jump in the fire and make like smoke & rise. Straight to the top, where the air is fresh and clean. I can't let sorrow try and pull ol' Anthony down...

Straight to the top-ah.