Hello world.
No lie. 'Waffles don't care what you're wearing' says the newspaper of the guy next to me. Big bold letters. I look up to the window across the car and try to focus on the buildings and trees flying past me like hot syrup. I'm not convinced. Alliteration in advertisement isn't enough of an argument. I need to hear that thought direct from a waffle.
A friend of mine once remarked that 'four moves is as good as a fire'. At the time I assumed he was trying to tell me I'd been burned. He's subtle like that. Now that I think about it, I guess he was making a metaphysical statement about equivalence. But I'm not sure I follow. I think the sticking point is the word 'good'.
Along similar lines, a guy in a movie once quipped something like: 'I like cocktails. Rum and Coke . Remeron, Prosaic, and coffee. The Sex Pistols, vitamin B, and no sleep.' What's the difference? I'm sure I don't know. Cocktails all round, right? I'm probably not hitting that one exactly on the head anyway. (And maybe he was serious). Pass me over another burning stick of carefree, mate.
I've been awake almost four days. A 72 hour pass in this economy, stupid. At least three hours to go. I'm a pale semblence of lucid. Before I left my boss tried to poison me with lactose. This may be my big chance to figure out exactly where the balance rests between reality and paranoia. It must be somewhere out in all that syrup. Or maybe its just time for my William Tell trick...
To be honest, I probably should not stop typing just yet...