Failure to Launch, failure to even get the rocket on the fucking pad.

To tell you the truth, I don't know why I called her. I knew that we would end up just talking about her weekend and how that guy came down from Sydney to fuck her, and not about how I had feelings for her like I said I did on Friday. More breath and brain space wasted, I may as well just stand on the corner and spoon that shit out like some weird pink and grey ice cream delivery service, all the while becoming slowly retarded as I give myself a lobotomy.

It really is all about me you know. I could beat my head against a wall of women and all I would get is a loving concussion. Oh I am tired and should have taken that Valium when I had the chance. At least then I could have slept.

I wish I could eat properly at the moment. I get so outrageously hungry, then as soon as food is on my plate the hunger evaporates. Its killing me. I'm back to midnight cereals and taking bananas to bed with me in case I wake up hungry. Which reminds me, I have to buy some more bananas.

I had a pretty culture filled weekend. I saw Fischerspooner on Friday night, they were ok. It went from alright to awesome and then just ok and then pretty good then just ok again. If only it was consistent. I didn't get to bed until about 4 so I spent Saturday feeling like I was hung over but without the drinking that goes with it. I slept, played some video games, cleaned the house, ate, went to bed. It was... nice. On Sunday a friend and I saw the Ricky Swallows exhibition at the Ian Potter gallery. It was pretty amazing although after talking to some 'arty' people I am beginning to think that perhaps not so amazing. Apparently he has a lot of helpers who aren't mentioned in any of the articles, still, the work was very beautiful. It's sculpture, a lot of wood carving, and for some of it the quality of work is absolutely fantastic, I'll give him that.

I think the high-light of my weekend though was seeing the movie Moon with Sam Rockwell. I love my sci-fi and this film was absolutely wonderful. Nothing huge and no mega mind blowing special effects, in fact, I think a lot of the effects are models as opposed to CGI or anything like that. Do they even call it CGI anymore? Who knows. Whatever, all that counts is that it was a great film and not to be missed. Sam Rockwell is the man. For rizzle. I would move to the moon, if only for the desolation.

Between all of these activities I though about her, her thighs, her hair, her eyes. I set myself up for quite a fall, for no reason other than it kept my mind busy. I wonder now what I will think about to avoid thinking about her, quantum physics perhaps, maybe design something new and inventive that everybody's been waiting for. Maybe some new type of douche bag that I can name after myself, you know, just for laughs.

This blog is beginning to sound a lot like diary, which I don't like. Unless its Dylan Klebolds diary, which in that case is fine.

What I really want at the moment is to be inspired and I guess what smarts (to use a term from 1989 American TV) is that this girl, well, inspires me. I think about her and suddenly my minds all 'lay entangled in bed sheets and emotions' or how her skin is like milk and how my tongue longs to taste her sweat. She makes me want to write poetry again, poems that no one will ever read but will be written anyway, poems about skin and bodily fluids, poems about sex and love and all in between.

And let us not forget how desperate I am to fuck her. She conjures such rampant images of sex in my brain that its like a stampede at a brothel. Unrelenting. What is the name of that weird human emotion that makes me want to fuck her until her eyes roll back in her head and then hold her as she falls asleep and the hypnogagic twitches start.

I doubt there is a name really, people generally don't name things that they only experience in their imaginations. Except for kids, and they suck anyway.

I just re-read both this and my last entry and realised they are basically the same. Here's where i'd say something like 'Fuck I hate me' but I was told that this blog is very much a self indulgent rant. So fuck it, back on hiatus I go. See you when I could be bothered and feel that I can actually contribute to the culture of greatness instead contributing to the culture of mediocrity.