Racing random thoughts or random racing thoughts or thoughts about racing randomly. I'm a bad girl & I deserved to be slapped. Which is very likely to happen once my boyfriend gets back in town. I know what you might be thinking. No, I did not cheat. I defiantly, recklessly,simplychose bad behaviour over good. Step one, I stopped taking my meds. Step 2, bought a 5th of gin & a lime. Step 3, took a clandestine trip to NYC. Step 4, got into a wreck w/ a taxi & paid him $200 to go away. (I wasn't drunk at the time, BTW)((Amazingly enough!)) Step 5, well, I'm still in the throes of step 5.

Was the decision to execute the destruction of the Twin Towers on 9/11 a conscious decision or sheer coincidence? It smacks of a twisted sense of humour. This connection occurred to me the moment I realized the date.

Why doesn't Woolite froth as much anymore? Nothing seems to work as well as it used to. New & Improved seems to be synonymous w/ sterile & mediocre.

I've had pots & pans all my life so why is it I'm all of a sudden destroying them? There is this strange opulent patina on my newest sauce pan after just one use. Rice. Perfect rice.

Why does every time I touch a glass it chips? It happens when I'm sober so I just can't figure it out.

Why does low self-esteem happen? Are we all really that subjective to other peoples opinions? I'm so hyper aware of it yet I feel so desperately helpless to do anything about it. How lame I am. I wish I could slap myself. But it wouldn't work because the element of surprise with that sudden rush of disbelief is what makes it oh so effective.

How come my clothes are constantly being damaged from the wash? I've been doing my own laundry since I was 16 (god I sound spoiled). Ever since my mother washed a wool sweater that was hand woven from Scottish virgin wool that my boyfriend had brought back as a gift from Edinburgh. Bitch. I miss him. Last I heard he was a transvestite hooker on Cleveland St. Not my fault. I hope. No, I will not claim that decision. What an aberration.

"A conscious decision to set a fire." The narrator said "Police jargon for arson." Isn't jargon a less wordy version of a detail? God, I hate people.

I'm hearing noises that aren't there. I'm having bursts of tears followed by uncontrollable laughter. I actually started taking my meds again this morning. I've prolly ruined 4 years of arduous labour against this monster on my back. Why won't she go away? Why couldn't she have stayed a man-sized Carrot? I could deal w/ that kind of imagery.

All these commercials about Poise & weak bladder problems make me so mad. Has anyone heard of Kegel exercises? Has anyone heard of finding a simple & organic way to cure a problem before pushing a pill? God, I hate people. I need to turn off the idiot box but my music collection has been frustrating me lately. Has anyone ever heard of that? I have over 400 LPs & CDs. Most are in my iTunes. How could I be so jaded? So inconsolably anxious & unappreciative of my good fortune? OK, I realized my favourite album would make all this go away. Here's to hoping it works.*

Has anyone else noticed TV commercials getting creepier & more disgusting lately? Maybe I'm slow to notice it. Maybe I'm slow to express it. Maybe I'm just slow.

I've always been a procrastinator but lately I have elevated that to an art form. I told a friend of mine I would outlive him because I'm such the procrastinator. It would have helped if in the past if I wasn't rewarded for it. I've always done my best work under intense pressure but when I apply this to something as mundane as hand washing or tending the garden it just seems ridiculous. It's like i've personally taken on the task of scarmaker. My pesto rocks however.

I'm still hearing phantoms & jumping at the least little provocation. I'm so deeply enveloped in self-loathing & regret that I can barely breathe. Why can't I break this downward spiral of self-destruction & choose life!?!?????

I'm starting to ruminate on my upcoming health issues. I'm having surgery on my foot to remove this damn ugly bunion. Something I thought I'd have to save for years for. I've never felt older or more Victorian. Then, hopefully by the time I've recovered from that I go under my 2nd round of treatment for Hep C. After that? Well, isn't that enough? Hopefully the universe will see fit to allow me a few years, 15 I hope, of gliding bliss.

I'm starting to feel much better. I'm actually grateful I chose this method of communication rather than calling a support line. Few people have the patience to deal w/ a paranoid, narccissistic bore. It's frustrating but I'm a resourceful sort. I have my words.

I so had high hopes for myself. The troubling thing is: I could've accomplished everyone of my goals. I've been able to master everything I've ever set out to do. They call me Jane of All Trades but that's not correct. I eneavour a task, I practice, I nail it, I get bored. Maybe that's the very definition of Master of Non. Everything except a cartwheel. Boggles my mind.

Ever had the feeling everything's been done before? Did you know they're re-releasing The Lion King in 3-fucking-D?

I cannot stand the sound of a screeching child. I rejoice to the heavens even as I weep that I am not able to have children. If only this would happen to everyone who should never have children. At first it was a horrific fear of feeling I would be unable to control a murderous rage against the child only to find out I had been molested as a child & contracted an infection that left me sterile. Is irony the right word?

I keep hearing banging. Doors opening, closing. Do I have a woodpecker living outside my window?

Is the KGB still in effect?

* It didn't.