Wednesday, November 26th, 2003

Time	Event
12:19p	Хроника перманентного безумия In my mind is the sound of rudderless ships A time, and a time, and a time, and a time So much silence deafens our ears So much emptiness hinders our movements Lost in the earth and lost in the air Around my hollow globe Broken feathers blocking my words And the no-one speaks, oh no-one moves Broken in snow the sun bares teeth So one: I shall build a boat Two: I shall not fly a flag Three, three, three: God's three functions So three: I shall cross myself Four: and hope to die Жуткий паноптикум на работе продолжает пополняться. Существует куча олигофренов, которые попадают почти исключительно на меня... Вот, например, полностью выжившая из ума бабка, которая с периодом раз в 10 минут посылает сообщения на пейджер своему сыну. Причем сформировать какой-либо связный текст оно в принципе не в состоянии, так что только и делает, что плачется мне о своих "проблемах". То сантехник обматерил, то в поликлинике "старой маразматичкой" назвали, то еще что-нибудь. И все мессаги заканчивает одинаково: "Позвони. Мама." Чувствую, сам туда скоро позвоню. И змеиным шепотом выговорю: "Семь дней!.." Иль взять еще одного дебила. Каждое утро: "Доброе утро, Наташенька! Как ты спала \ что сейчас делаешь \ жду встречи \ et cetera..." Плюс еще и подписывается тошнотворными кличками типа "твой мармеладный заяц". На месте той неизвестной баППы - давно убил бы уебка. Максимально жестоким способом... PS: Зашел сегодня в аптеку купить гигиеническую помаду. В отделе лечебной косметики мне тут же попытались втюхать грим-тоналку и бальзам для волос. Интересно - чего это они? PPS: Между прочим - на улице Настоящий Осенний Дождь. Впору радоваться, только... только - что ж мне ТАК тоскливо и погано?! Хоть волком вой, хоть в запой уходи, хоть в петлю лезь... ;( Current Mood: gloomy Current Music: Sopor Aeternus - The Innocense Of Devils (Alone) (13 Comments | Comment on this)
1:55p	(раскачиваясь в кресле, подпевает...) I have no body and I feel no pain for I am no longer here again. Now I can fly through-out the widest space finally I'm set free from all my chains. A farewell to heaven and a farewell to old hell, from now on we shall never meet again. Neither light nor darkness are here to know my way, there'll be no more sadness and there'll no more pain. I can fly, yes, I can fly and I'm no longer here, may this old flesh stay down there forever, I shall not waste a thought. No, I do no longer care... Спать, спать... Current Mood: melancholy Current Music: Sopor Aeternus - Somnabulist's Secret Bardo Life (Comment on this)
3:48p	Ух, какая клиовая песня... Who wouldn’t want a good girl, a soft hand, a gentle woman for a gentleman? He said, "It’s been fine so far but after a while I want more than a soft style. I want some slashes to go with those long eyelashes." And so the bedroom became the black room but a year later he wanted something more, something I wasn’t quite prepared for. He said, "Every woman has an itch and every nice girl secretly wants to switch. I like how the skins look on your white hands. I’d like you to deliver one of my demands." He said, "Every woman has an itch and every nice girl wants to switch." He led me in and lit the room with a hundred candles and said "God never gives you more than you can handle." I sat astride his chest, "It’s just a thrill," he said, as he relaxed on the dark, dark bed, "it’s just breath control." He whispered "Hold me here" and I did and his head fell back. He whispered "Press harder" and I did and his eyes rolled back. It’s just breath control. Just breath control. I saw him go pale. I saw him seize up, I felt something creep up like a taste for this. Like a reward. A kind of love, a kind of lustmord. It was a minute then three then five then ten, he wasn’t coming up again. I held on for twelve. I saw him seize and thrash and twist and when he was still, I lifted away my wrists and looked at my hands and tried to understand. "It’s just a thrill" I said as he relaxed on the dark, dark bed. I sat aside his chest, "It’s just a thrill," he said, "just a thrill. It’s just breath control." When it was over, I slipped off the skins and drowned them in the river where we used to swim and a year later in a shop, I was stopped by a man. He said, "I know you’re looking for something that’s hard to find and I think I have what you have in mind." And he led me to a glass case and looked deep into my face.... "It’s just control." PS; Все - спать... Current Mood: apathetic Current Music: Recoil - Breath Control (2 Comments | Comment on this)

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