life sucks when you have insomnia
and then, after a while of habituating with it,
you start to see the grass.
it's so green,
and, yet, so ungreen
eeeek!!!! THE HORROR!!!
it's...it's...it's...
my hair
brown as black has always been,
never since the day before
The Ineffable yelled:
"Let there be light!"
and coulnd't take his words back,
although I doubt that was unintentional.
he's quite funny,
the old man is.
and a pipe is never a pipe.
for I have not shown you the object "pipe",
I've only mentioned the word "pipe".
et ceci n'est pas une pipe.
life is funny when you have insomnia,
but it gets better along the way.
I feel my hair again,
and wonder again what ever could that be.
I guess shampoo is a better word to use
if only someone could hand me a bunch
and let me hold it in the palm of my hands
for a while longer.
long enough for me to understand whatever that may be aswell
but shampoo will never do
I could already hear the bubbles whispering.
as they were not yelling bamboocha,
I ran away quickly, and then stopped,
just as quickly.
for what if the unopened bottle of fanta should explode
and cause another flood?
another happy gaggle of groupie/sinistrati
would be floating around with no destination.
life is quite wierd when you have insomnia
but it gets absurder by the way
and the you strat to wonder
with no destination
what ever would destination mean anyway
must be silly
but I don't remeber the degrees of silliness
nor the shades nor the coulour
nor the shapes nor the covers
veils veins layers and layers upon layers
of image ready
used with macromedia flash mx
to give it a sparkle
of mystery
the mystery of the exstiential question,
and existentialism in general,
the existential questions of why
what goes around comes around,
why apples fall to the ground,
why britney spears must be blonde.
and, especially, why say :
life "sucks" when you have insomnia?