Aimless exercise in the use of ten dollar words... at 7:30am.

Daylight is peeking in around the sides of my makeshift curtains, I'm watching the clock tick away at precious minutes of sleep.... Unrest is a feeling that I abhor with every fiber, drop, and cell within my body. It never seems to be specific, rather it wants to drape itself over both my conscious and subconscious beings, and fester and rot. I wouldn't call them nightmares this week, perhaps maybe just a battle between common sense and overwhelming desire and ambition.
Either way, wandering through the routines day to night has been like a bad B-movie. The haze left from bottled up ideas and emotions weighs it all down like a viscous iridescence, adding or smothering gleaming flashes of brilliance at whim. I've run all the images seared into my grey matter through every interpretation I can get my hands on, and found nothing to ameliorate.
The laptop goes with me to work from now on, lest I once more find myself hastily adding freakish features to my poorly lined scratchings on paper to distort the faces irrevocably etched onto whatever scrap of paper I find to fidget with. These faces don't look familiar, they're just characters from the book I'm writing about a post apocalyptic society dominated by the iron fist of organized religion and at war with man-made genetic mutants. Nothing to worry about. See this one? Double veins for simultaneous use of hot and cold blood. No, no, medically, nothing is impossible. You just have to force an unreasonable explanation involving the use of technology that may or may not be in attempted development, eventually a path towards making it all work for the story will be found. See, you don't even remember the f*^&%$# picture now, do you?

Where was I going with that? The sugar-free Red Bull is gone now and I'm back to that dratted rainbow distortion that has been wreaking all kinds of havoc with my functionality for the past three days. Who needs realization and acceptance of what is clearly being expressed in a most determined subconscious form, when you've got stimulants? Without an adrenaline rush, you would never see clearly until you've mastered zen in old age.
I am, more or less, hoping that by attaching my computer to more points of my nightly free time, that I will somehow manage to flood my mind with the icy glacial waters of cleansing through expression. This ultimately works towards another book idea I have, one that requires only experience and enough frame by frame memory left over from my love of alcohol and chaos. My definition of coping is wonderfully entertaining, if you can wrap your mind around the concept of it.

I'm only trying to cultivate your interest in me as a person, face, voice, supervillian... I'm hoping the five people who read this will at least come to my first book signing just to meet the weirdo behind the words.

HEY!! Myspace and Facebook people... Wouldn't this be so much easier if you had a profile on this lovely website instead of bouncing around trying to get inside my head?? Just sayin....