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[23 Oct 2003|08:36pm] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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Every time I leave my door open by chance to write, I am reprimanded by calls of my name across the apartment, then have them reach my ears in crescendo annoyance. What the shit, hold your tongue until I can hear you. If I'm sharp, catch them early and yell a response... I'm called ignorant. That'd be nice. So would complete hearing loss.
How impulses flop out of the elderly like ridiculous items from a clown's pocket. How full of holes their filter. How demure they become when caught with their pinkie in the molasses.
But then it's gone. Just gone. I have to write about the incident to fill my slot. How the mind goes and temper comes.
To live alone would be relish w/mousse.
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