Some of you may wonder where I got the title of my blog. Others of you may think you know. The truth is I was even wrong myself.
So for those who think it is just a sarcastic spin on my cynical world-view, it goes much deeper than that. For those of you who think I lifted it from my own mix CD of the same title (second in the Low Key Cafe series,) I may have put money there myself. But that isn't it either.
You see, there is a dark place in my mind. Beyond my normal goofy crazy. Legitimate crazy. And I am getting there again. And this isn't caffeine withdrawal, this is sickness. I am slipping. This started a while back. Back when EGEG was still just Red. Back when WILATU was on hiatus. And now in my lonely apartment muttering to myself or to Revenge, it all started coming back to me. I am Joe's bile duct.
It was recently suggested to me that I sell my art and marry my muse. I have found inspiration in three things in my life: caffeine, pretty girls, and insomnia. I have gotten rid of the first two. Thank God the third one hasn't found me again. Though I imagine that will only be a matter of time. But as I slip and the nonsense builds in my mind again, there it was like an old forgotten friend. C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\Writing\Insomnia Chronicle
Maybe it is just caffeine withdrawal. But my brain hurts. I am swimming. It isn't as bad as it used to be, but I am on the edge. And I can almost see myself again standing in the mirror of my old apartment muttering to myself, " You know what I like about the universe?" And the answer to this rhetorical question was of course "nothing." But I never said that. I kept looking for an answer. But there is no answer. Just more insane rambling.
If you are waiting for the punchline, there isn't one. You just have to wait it out while I fight this. What I have deemed the common cold of mental illness. I'll get through it. I always do.
But here are some of the belly laughs in store for you. Since I have been reminded of it, I am dusting off the Insomnia Chronicles and using them as posts. That is what they were destined to be. These were written a while back. Some of them have dates. Some of them I can give a rough date from the content. A privileged few have seen these before. These are not the fuzzy feel-good regular goofy of Boy Marmalade. These are me sitting at a computer, unable to sleep, with thoughts I couldn't sort out and no one to talk to. This is the index:
the insomnia chronicles
1. zenless world
2. the day i set my couch on fire
3. polite suicide note
4. sleepless babble
5. how i became noctornal
6. what i like about the universe
7. killikng Andy Kaufman
8. ‘Nilla Wafers and a new perspective
These will be cut and pasted without editing. And with the way I feel now there may be new additions. But you will see that I was Tyler Durden. I was Andy Kaufman. I can feel the black tendrils slipping over the contours of my brain as I write this. We are Venom. They are false! They are tricksy. It burns, it burns! It burns and it freezes us! I am the big Chief. I am Joe's overwhelming apathy.
I really wish I were making this shit up.