You Know, I Just Ain't Feeling It
The initial high and burst of creativity I experienced after the ghost hunt was lovely, but, frankly, it’s just not there anymore. Could be due to the unholy pain of my latest muscle/joint attack coupled with the return of -- and more severe than ever -- shitstorm of my faulty mitral valve, which manifests as a large, beefy-handed nun in a neon blue habit who whacks me nonstop with a metal ruler in my left chest whenever I lay my head down to sleep, or could be the delicious anxiety of dealing with my extended family and their problems, which they are always so kind to involve me in, or it’s possible, nay likely, that I just don’t give a fuck. I’ll go out on a limb here and say that because I’m feeling overwhelmed about many things going on in my life, things that make me want to drink entire bottles of Absolut, my usually humorous (ahem) take on life has dissolved into a giant puddle of ennui. So there.I apologize to those who actually do give a fuck about my most excellent time at Rolling Hills, but I’m going to put “The Night Paris Peed Her Pants” aside for the time being. Besides, despite his promise, the three foot tall, one-eyed Hasidic Jew whose name I do not know, never sent me that picture, the only good one, really, of me and my freaky electroshock therapy room spirit buddy, so, yeah…Not very godly of you, little sir. Not godly at all.
Also, I believe an apology is in order to those who read yesterday’s (now deleted) post on my MySpace blog... It’s not like me to use the “C” word, nor do I normally refer to people as “corpse-eating sphincter-sniffers,” no matter how repulsive I find them to be, but, jeepers, I did yesterday, among other atrocities of the epithetical kind, and so, I’m sorry to anyone who witnessed my breakdown of good sense and decorum.
And on that note, here, for your amusement and disdain, is a picture of me at Rolling Hills “speaking” to Emme the Psychotic Nurse, who assured me that she is not, in fact, psychotic, but merely a misunderstood soul who enjoys haunting her bedroom closet and remembering the days of abusing orphans. Emme decided to leave her closet for a bit, and is standing directly in front of me and my trusty rods. Rock on, Emme, you sick, twisted bitch, you.
posted by Ms. Lori @ 10:14 AM
6 Comments:
And I SO came by to lambast you into continuing your ghostly encounter! And MAN, WHY do I have to miss all the good blog entries??? Anywho - faulty mitral valve sounds a little scary - but drinking whole bottles of Absolut is right up my alley. In fact yesterday was a day entirely sacrificed to the God of the Throbbing Brain. But enough about me. You gonna be ok, Shuggs??? xxx
Why is it you just get more and more interesting as life goes on, Lori?
Sometimes my muse just vanishes. Maybe that's what happened.
Lori, in any given post, you coin at least one term or phrase that could easily become a permanent part of the English lexicon. Even when you feel like shit, you write like dark chocolate: "delicious anxiety, "giant puddle of ennui," "atrocities of the epithetical kind."
May a tiny bit of your vast and awesome talent rub off on all who enter here.
And may you feel better soon.
Sowwy, Alexis... :-(
Hey, let's get drunk! :-)
Jas, I think it's more along the lines of my becoming more insane and whiny, but I love you for being kind. mwah!
Steph, my muse done jumped off the Golden Gate. ;-)
Editor, may I give you a big, warm hug? After all, it's only right that I reciprocate...Thanks for that, dear. (((LARGE, BONE-CRUSHING EMBRACE)))
Blackadder, you get squat. ;-) ;-) ;-) What's up, darling Nuggets? You've been missed!
Sorry you're not feeling inspired, although your sense of humor sure seems intact to me (especially in your last post). If looking at my old, crappy art would make you feel any better, you can always go to my website.
But seriously, I'm just now getting over a really depressing dry spell and the only advice I can give is "do everything you can to relax". Don't feel obligated to create, just loosen up for a bit and see what happens. Hope you feel better soon.
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