The northlondonhippy

I’m enjoy­ing ran­dom, manic thoughts, induced by 25 hours of con­tin­u­ous con­scious­ness. In my world, this is not uncommon.

I thought I would try to cap­ture the spirit and essence of the expe­ri­ence, but as you would expect, now that I’m typ­ing, the effect has dis­ap­peared. I’m focussing on being func­tional and typ­ing words that might make some sem­blance of sense, rather than con­vey­ing the sur­real nature of being me right now.

I’ve had spe­cial cook­ies. Its Mon­day morn­ing, at 10:30am and I’m wide awake, sleep should come soon, but did I men­tion the heat?

Its hot here.

Glad that’s out of the way.

I really should be sleep­ing, I will be sleep­ing, once I wind down. I’ve had a rather busy and event­ful 25 hours, and the week before that was a bit drain­ing, lit­er­ally, as I had a blocked one out back and it was a shitty ordeal deal­ing with it.

I need to blow off some steam, but its 10:33am on a Mon­day morn­ing, nor­mal peo­ple have things to do, peo­ple to see, places to be…but not me.

Also, said my sub-conscious, I got news yes­ter­day of the sud­den pass­ing of an old friend. My friend was a cou­ple years younger than me, just to add to the angst. I don’t deal well with death, unless obsess­ing about it in var­i­ous abstract ways for decades counts as deal­ing with it, in which case I win.

Blame the inter­net for this sud­den burst of ran­dom crap, if my down­load speeds were faster for my sto­ries, I’d be watch­ing them and not harass­ing the world with this stream of con­scious­ness bull­shit… because let’s face it, the delib­er­ate act of typ­ing this out removes any chance of shar­ing the state of my mind. Every word, every key stroke, forces a deci­sion, which then forces another, which then pre­de­ter­mines my actions as opposed to just let­ting the stream of weird run free.

Or I could go check my down­loads and leave all of you nice peo­ple alone. Sorry for the dis­tur­bance, please do call again.

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