there's no such thing as a brain cloud

[vriad_lee]

as software localization project progresses into more remote and deadlier phases the madness sets in, slowly and surely like night frost in autumn.

i pay as little attention to my body as i can afford to. each project brings hives, lymph node enlargement and nervous prostration. eyes are itching, but my body doesn't mind anything. it would like to curl up and sleep or curl up and die but it doesn't really insist. i feel pity towards all these cells and tissues that live their own quiet unhappy life, feed off whatever water i drink and whatever food i eat and suffer all my whims. it's a huge silent population that will die together with me, and i feel it shouldn't have been entrusted with someone as erratic and irresponsible as myself. nails and hair they grow on for a few days after you die, but soon they stop too losing their central raison d'être which is the real mystery to me

smug smug smug smug smug smug

please don't be so smug

i used to ride in a fridge skidding along frozen streets in the dark under the streetlamps i used to ride, and the door of the fridge was shut and i heard the laughing the hubbub of the kids running outside pushing my fridge along the ice

some people are lucky enough to wear protective crust of obtusity and insensibility and pointless optimism all through their school years and bloom, sensually and intellectually, by their twenties or thirties, when they are safely past that long stretch of misunderstanding and abuse and glaring neglect and... you know the hell that's called childhood & youth

oh the taste and the smell of a single sunflower seed found on the floor when you have run out of everything and only jars of homemade jam are stacked in the fridge since summer


i live in a room with no ceiling, no floor, no walls. turning constantly, it makes so hard to find and quite impossible to fix for good my single natural mood in which i'm lying like a tigress lazily licking my paw