Fuel

I have had two late nights in a row and I am now paying for it. In fact, I might even say I’m paying for my insolence just like all the Hollywood villains said I would. I could sleep here at my desk with the greatest of ease, like the flying men on the trapeze.

I did find some comfort last night as I was finally able too meet up with one of my hearts affections for a drink or two last night. Nothing seems to soothe a bothered soul like fine and desired company. It gives me the fuel to keep it going for a little while longer. Perhaps I'll hold off on that whole, "Starting a Cult", thing.

I’m in debt to it though and this sleepy head blues has come to collect. I’ve been so distracted that I’ve hardly been able to focus on today’s piece. It’s kind of all mashed together in my brain box.

I think it’s time for a Coke. I love Coke. It’s my drink of choice. Although like most things I love, I’m certain it’s trying to kill me. Coke is very Hitchcock-ian that way. It builds and builds a long relationship and once you have nothing to fear, “BAM”! It hits you with some debilitating blood disease and the only cure is the blood of a virgin. So then you’re cruising high schools looking for dumb virgins. 

Did I mention that I’m very tired?  

I don’t think I did actually. Yes, I’m really tired but I have a satisfied feeling that it was worth it.  Being out with my friend last night was worth it, not the whole virgin sacrifice thing. Although I could see how that could be tiring too.

Time for that Coke.