October 2nd, 2004



I think I've discovered that even my incredible ability to mainline caffeine to the point that it's effects become indistinguishable from amphetamines has it's limits. I have to say, I do feel rather seedy. On the other hand, my brain was usefully active for five hours longer than it would have been and this morning is nothing a shitload of water and a cheap burger can't deal with. Though I end up feeling it so much that an icon for "feeling crap" would be rather useful...

People keep giving me ideas. In the one week that I really, really can't afford to use them. The bastards. I've sat there uninspired when I (thought I) had the time, and now the walls are caving in the bastards don't stop. Perhaps it's the magically active section of the brain that kicks in with random connections. Activated under stress and adrenaline, it points out daft little throwaway things and random connections to the forebrain. The primary architect of mystic consciousness. I need to learn how to turn this on at will...

Fuck. There I go again.


I don't know how long I've had this chocolate. Since getting home my consumption of the stuff has levelled off to just about zero — if I get through more than one bar in a month it's weird enough to be memorable. I think I got this one on one morning on my way to sign on for my dole money, back last August or September. More than a year ago.

Half of it, one finger of the two, has been sat, open, on a shelf in my room for the past year + change. And noow I'm eating it.

I was going to get sugar earlier, taking a short break to nip to the local newsagents, have a smoke and get some thing sugary, but no dice. I remembered (fortunately before setting off) that the shop had changed hours and now closed just before I would be able to get there. My need for sugar has been increasing, the need to replenish the energy levels that all of this hypercaffeinated Javan brew has leeched from me in the form of nervous twitches. But there's nothing in the house unless I want to go back to eating it raw from the bag, and living with parents precludes that.

So I'm eating the other half of this chocolate bar. It's not bad, even if it does taste not a little of deoderant fallout and dust. But it's not gone white and it doesn't look like anything but chocolate. Which is good enough for me.

On a random thought: Go out and find the Doom Patrol collections if you haven't yet. They are turbochargers for your brain.