When you're strange
I’ve never been the office weirdo before and between you and me, it’s very strange. I mean I’ve been weird in an office environment before, but not in a way that makes people look at me any more funny than usual. You see, I started work at the beginning of a series of bad events in my life and others and it kinda knocked me back and back until I just couldn’t be bothered to speak to anyone as it been so long. I even appear to be accidentally giving them the impression that I disapprove of drugs. Life is strange sometimes.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like life being strange. There is no harm in freaks as long as they’re not cannibals, and there is nothing wrong with being freaked out, as long as you know where the floor is. Life is simple that way. Just like the numbering system I use to make sure I have everything when I leave a place. I have just five things on my at all times, which I need to take with me everywhere. Cigarettes, wallet, keys, phone and my mitts. What about a lighter and rizla and whatnot I hear you cry? Well I would be pretty damn pissed off if I lost things too, but I can only remember so much at a time.
Which reminds me (that seems funny somehow, but I can’t quite put my finger on it), how do you remember things? I mean is it a conscious effort? Do you need to be concentrating really hard? I find that I remember things at random, and other things I entirely blank out. But I don’t really choose these things. And even when I do try hard, what is my mind actually doing when I’m thinking about it. I just concentrate and sometimes an answer just pops out of thin air. It’s not like I did anything to get it, except thought about it until it appeared.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, work. I have to go there soon, so best go to bed.
Oh bed
How I love thee
You comfy bastard
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like life being strange. There is no harm in freaks as long as they’re not cannibals, and there is nothing wrong with being freaked out, as long as you know where the floor is. Life is simple that way. Just like the numbering system I use to make sure I have everything when I leave a place. I have just five things on my at all times, which I need to take with me everywhere. Cigarettes, wallet, keys, phone and my mitts. What about a lighter and rizla and whatnot I hear you cry? Well I would be pretty damn pissed off if I lost things too, but I can only remember so much at a time.
Which reminds me (that seems funny somehow, but I can’t quite put my finger on it), how do you remember things? I mean is it a conscious effort? Do you need to be concentrating really hard? I find that I remember things at random, and other things I entirely blank out. But I don’t really choose these things. And even when I do try hard, what is my mind actually doing when I’m thinking about it. I just concentrate and sometimes an answer just pops out of thin air. It’s not like I did anything to get it, except thought about it until it appeared.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, work. I have to go there soon, so best go to bed.
Oh bed
How I love thee
You comfy bastard
posted by Justin at 2:56 PM
5 Comments:
i love poems about bed. i could make a poems forum.... that'd be, interesting.
ps love the sin city reference.
beds are so easy to be poetic about. there is almost nothing which happens there which is bad.
bed sores?
wetting the bed?
pillow biting?
and i know there are monsters under mine. thats why i have all those autobots to protect me while i sleep.
I find my memory is so much better if i apply a routine against it. Everytime I leave the house I have to close the door with the key, that way I don't forget my keys. Simple stuff like that. After a while I don't even think about it, I just do it.
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