Loosing It

My mind has begun to unravel.

First of all, I've begun dreaming about housebloggers. This is a new experience for me. The other night Gary, Greg, and I were stripping tack & canvas wallpaper out of the three story, brick, Victorian row house. And, two nights ago, my wife and I visited Maryam in Marrakesh. I'm sure Maryam would be interested to know that she had three children ages 10-12, two are girls, and all have dark hair. Also, her home was lovely; it was like the Forbidden City in rich green, amber, and nutty brown.

Second, there is the emotionally charged relationship the living room & dining room ceilings and I have been developing. The main point of contention is their dilapidation and peeling paint is an affront to my existence. The way they sulk around is just depressing. They make me want to murder them.

Third, I've been suffering from insatiable cravings for fresh greens, ripe tomatoes (impossible to find at this time of year), fruit juice, hot tea, and raw fish. Anything else just sets too heavy on the stomach.

Fourth, living in a squalid, den of iniquity has really lost of its charm. You know, at first its is kind of exciting living like a coked-up squatter or five dollar hooker in a flop house, but the novelty of the experience wears off fast. In fact, it is becoming down right depressing.

And fifth, one on my favorite "keyword searches" that has found the Devil Queen is, "hierarchy of evil." This is not to say, "my wife is a dumbass" or "big hairy butt dumps" are not amusing, but I just like the idea that this Godforsaken house is so innately infernal that it rates among the big boys. "Better to rule in Hell . . ."

Maybe I just spent too much of my weekend watching Dumbo with my son (the pink elephants - that is some seriously weird shit for 1947) and eating my own weight in seaweed, but think I'm really picking up some momentum on my downward slide into rocking, gibbering, pissing my pants madness. Who knows, maybe it won't be so bad?