you coveteth my ice cream bar!

I started out writing about E. B. White. I love his work. When I was about eight years old, I read Charlotte’s Web. Then I read Stuart Little and after that The Trumpet of the Swan. Looking at that now, I realize that the books became progressively less depressing.

But my brain is dying of sleeplessness. Sleep. Sleep sleep sleep sleep. It sounds funny in brain. On my tongue.

I could roll it around and hear it clatter.

I found myself sitting in a pose that I do not remember getting into.

5 Hour Energy is not helping.

I want a hat. I do not know what kind of hat, but I want one. Preferably one that looks good on me. But since that might be asking too much, I’ll settle for whatever I can get.

My brain is tripping over my fingers. Trip. Trip trip trip trip trip. Tip-trip. Trip-tip? Whicketty wackety woo.

Yep. Dain bramage. Thou art me.

My head is at a funny angle. Or maybe it’s the room. No, it’s definitely my head. I wonder if I can fix that.


8 responses to “you coveteth my ice cream bar!

  1. Oh dear. You were at work when you wrote this?

    • Yep. Definitely at work. Owl shift ate my brain! I blame that for the fact that I cut off my dreadlocks today.

      • I’m often incoherent at work, so I shouldn’t blame anyone else for being incoherent. But isn’t it your job to, like, keep the Tevatron from blowing up? How can I trust that the Chicago area will not be a smoking crater in the ground next time I come back? I’m trusting my sister’s life to you, Owen .

      • Hmph! There you go. Ruining my fun and pressuring me to avoid mass destruction! 😛
        Fine, I shall endeavor not to destroy Chicago. At least, not tonight.

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