Dust out, fresher dust in

[8:31:31 PM] fichee says: psh, whatever
[8:31:43 PM] miu says: psh?
[8:31:50 PM] miu says: what does it mean
[8:32:10 PM] fichee says: i dunno, its a noise, like a tire with a hole in it, means "whatever". From the Fresh Prince.

Hah. Non-native English speaking girlies..

Still rather off the time schedule, it's starting to fuck up my eating as well, two oddly timed meals a day has become the norm. Whatever, I need to lose some weight anyway. I rearranged the room today, finally unpacking, or what I guess could be called unpacking. I was noticing that I kept having the weirdest thoughts when I lay down with that lumpy piece of shit excuse for a bed, but a lot of genius revelations as well, so I moved my desk over here in hopes I can use that to my advantage. However, not everything that comes to me over on this side of the room is true, because I refuse to let it be so. Case in point, my lesbian wife. More on that later. Also, I really need to get one of those trendy excer-balls to sit on, a wrong-height kitchen chair is hardly the proper sitting solution, and even worse it's wreaking havoc with my poor spine.

I keep finding these odd inspirations to write about, but sitting in front of the computer, I lose all desire to put it down. For example, the following topics, you will never know the profound insights of any of these. Russian Winnie-the-Pooh, who looked like a panda bear dunked in faeces with Piglet shrieking every sentence he uttered, a magical elixir that I found that will turn you into Björk, that horrible smell emanating from the fridge in the other room (that is currently drying out after I ripped that fucker a new one in my cleaning spree), the crackhead who just WILL NOT take a hint, and high-larious product names here/engrish in general. Anyway, I'm off to finish my tidying and then get to bed to rest up, I have a big grocery store adventure tomorrow morning, and hopefully some wall removal after that.

What's in a name?

Fishey. Like in the sea. Ocean. Whatever. Because I don't feel like picking a direction, I swim. Or drift, can't really say. And yes, it is intentionally nondescript. I feel much more comfortable talking to strangers on the internets, and it is much easier to feign ignorance of some [mostly] untraceable crap online than if somone stumbles upon a giant text document while rustling through your harddrive.

Why am I writing this down? Better question, why are you reading this? It's not for you, I will do my best to make it as long and as boring as possible. So fuck off. Kindly, of course.

The real reason is sanity. I thought I had come to terms with my own, but constantly it is being shaken up and jangled, the fucker with the strings has a sick sense of humor, that I am pretty sure of. Or are they reminders... Whatever.

So I took a plane ride the other day. Started to get a cold right before. The plane ride sucked. It sucked a lot. They design those pressurized cabin things so that you can't get permanently damaged, right? It's not like you could actually blow out an O-ring or some shit when your head is so full of shit that air finds its way in after 7 hours at 13000m or whatever, right? I hope not. I still can't fucking hear proper out of one of them. And boy howdy [hah I sound like an asshole using that phrase] was it fun catching a connecting flight and then going through passport kontrol having lost my voice and unable to hear. Actually that plane ride is nothing but unpleasant memories, so I don't want to write about it anymore.

Brings me to today, nearly 5 days later, still jet-whacked because I never got on the proper timeschedule, and just now getting over this fucking cold. Whatever, healed up or not tomorrow I am doing stuff.

But doing what? Being suddenly transplanted 8508km from 'home' hasn't made me feel out of place. The trouble is, I don't know where the fuck 'home' is. It doesn't bother me, I've spent so many years. Oh so many years. Years, being out of place. At least this time something is different.

I feel compelled to tell something of my adventures of eating several-years-expired food, twice already, and the resulting purging of every piece of goddamn old crap from the fridge, but that's kind of lame my most exciting happening has been smelly dairy products. So I won't. Here in the land of chilly winds, beautiful girlies, cheap beer, and a wild frontier, I should come up with something better to tell. So I will. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I set up camp, and start this shit in a forward direction. Onward and upward.

Or I might just harp on broken hearts and broken promises, and being a fichee swimming in the sea.