How are you doing?
how are you doing

I'm fine, thank you.
i'm fine thank you

Why are you up so late?
why are you up so late

Because I'm a fucking moron.  

I can't believe I'm actually typing things into the computer so I
can here it talk them back to me.  This is my conversation and
it's perfect.  I've always wanted to talk to someone who's smart 
like me -- that means believes the same things line for line.  
I'm a prick like that.  I'm really starting to believe that 
dissimilar belief's (from mine) are the result of poor logic by 
the befuddled masses.  Like I'm so smart; I haven't figured out 
how to interact socially any better than a talking computer.


I go through the same mechanical responses every time I talk to 
someone.  I'm a parrot.  I'm funny to some people once, the first 
time the hear me talk, but every sentence after that is 
measured not on the novelty of my ability to speak, but rather if 
anything I say is interesting.  All the stories can't be jewels.  
They used to be, but not anymore at any rate.  Jocks have their 
high school football glory days; I have the lunch time table and 
captive social gatherings at my house.  At least jocks have 
trophies semi-validating their claims on lost prowess,  all I 
have my stories, which friends are finally pointing out the 
glaring inaccuracies to actual events.  It's amazing how much 
more important I thought my role was in every single social 
event that I consider formative to my middle teenage years.  In 
many cases I apparently wasn't even present.  Are events that 
actually happened any more important than those that didn't?  
You'd think so, but if the results are the same in my life then 
who's to say?

beep beep beep

It's five thirty three a.m..  The backs of my legs are sweating 
against my sheets.  The neighbor's alarm is going off really 
loudly.  No one has air conditioning, so the grinding gut 
wrenching alarm beeps just float from one open window into 
another.  Even with the fan on (a way hip circa 1940's westing 
House desk fan I have sitting on my floor) I can hear it.  or 
maybe I can't and I'm just imagining it.  Either way it's keeping 
me up.  It's so late that I'm considering not going to bed.  Right.  
Like that'll ever happen.


Typical.