To,
The procrastinating chunk in my head: There are three blogs I have forsaken and this one is my last stab. I am tired of well, giving in into you.
The radical hair: Please behave yourself till I wash you again. You mean insolent, headfucker!
SS and AN: Please take a hike and stop giving me this shameless, almost shrug of an excuse that you won’t ever bleed to your deaths because you are males. And yes, please get out of my life, you two, while you are at it! For the sake of my rocker, I don’t wish to spit out refusals everytime like a demented cola machine! I am done with both of you. AN, you arrogant pusher and SS, you sappy cheeseball!
Dearest Enginium : Please get a life of your own and stop screwing mine just because you can’t get a life of your own. I don’t even feel like working on you anymore! No, it’s not you, actually. It’s the P.C. in my head! Damn you, Sod!
Major Project: Please go to hell and take your goddamn ten credits with yourself! I completely detest your swagger and your attitude that you flaunt so in-my-face. Stop making me work my behind off for you. You have already eaten a gazillion brain cells already. Leave the few hundred alone, please!
Phone: Stop ringing or else I am going to dunk you into a cesspool of grease oil and vodka. More often than not, dry humour is sugar coating for disquiet and that’s exactly what makes me incommunicado for you. Drop dead, you!
Dirty Laundry: What’s with the phrase anyway? Why don’t you go and get yourself all washed up in a public place? At least that would keep my hands a little less dirty if you know what I mean.
Assignments: My love for you has been legendary for the past four years now. About time you left me alone. Get your long fingers to catch hold of anybody else’s ankles to dangle then upside down and spin them around. All the blood in my body has already oozed out of my nose and ears.
Contact Lenses: You are nice and useful too, sometimes. But please, I guess it’s time I went back to looking mousey-two-eyes. I hope your cows are happy, though.
AN, again (can’t get enough of you, you see): If you think that you are smarter than you look, you can for sure talk to me on a day that doesn’t end with a ‘Y’. Also, tell me what ‘NO’ means in your dictionary and I’ll tell you what “Killing Yourself” means in mine!
Darling Julian: Thanks for being so scratchy, catatonic, prowling and gnawing in Juicebox and Heart in a Cage, “the” weary epic of punk-soul chiselled from concrete and steel. I am already drifting through a washed-out cityscape in search of the unnamed .The sheer volume is flying with the riddler in here. Your confessions are superbly supererogatory to say the least. Grip me in a Julianesque hug of rock’n’roll excess.
Me: Stop meditating between the reservoir of need-gratification impulses such as the primitive instinctual drives of wrath and aggression. Stop requiring immediate gratification or release without concern for external exigencies. The sense of being paranoid doesn’t prohibit you of being in the external world as well. And yes, you have started to foam at your mouth now. Halt!
Ah Well…Vive la inner vileness.
Yours truly,
Deeply pained and demented.
Sass Back