* Manic is the word of the day

Things I’ve noted recently:
Not lookin at people when I drive.
Don’t look don’t look don’t looooook, oh I can feeeeel them ew. They’re lookin. What am I gonna do- smile and wave? Hey whatchyu doin? Driving? Oh haha me too heh. No.
Actually I drive a radly painted mini van and people often look, and just the other night I was at a stoplight in East Atlanta and smiled at a group of toussled looking hippie boys sitting outside of Joe’s Coffe shop. They smiled back. I almost yelled “it’s spraypaint!” but didn’t. Human contact thing. Gets in the way of miserable isolation thing.
And..driving like it’s a great big f-kin race. And I must win. Like we are all in a Knights of the Round Table battle video game of painted concrete and traffic lights. Bob-weave, shit--slow f-ker DAMNMIT loookin for a hole, where’s a hole. THERE’S ONE GO! NHAAA-yes! HAHAHAHA cackling. Evil evil cackling.
As well as putting other people’s lives in danger. Nevermind my own. And it’s not like I can disappear into the mist after I drive like a total douchebag. My car is f-kin rainbow and starshine and sh-t. (note pictures posted below) God I love cursing. It’s so delicious. I wish we could all curse all the time. Like everybody all the f-kin time. Old grannies and stuff too. Grannie writes a check at register and asks you your name, then says “well thank you very F-kin much Bartholomuel, you b-tchass!” in granny lady voice and stuff.

Also noted recently:
farting in the prescence of co-workers.
Pushing acrylics in their little happy slots on their happy little shelfy shelves, when suddenly, subtly, sneakily, and cunningly..she approaches. Down the tunnel, a feeling of foreshadowing comming over me. You know the one, right before the bomb drops? When shes only planning on seeping secretly into the world. When she hasn't quite made the full journey. And thoughts like 'Is it gonna be bad? maybe its not deadly. Maybe it's something else.' - 'Nooo nope, there it goes. THAR SHE BLOWS! sniff....snifff...... Oh God. There it is. The monster I have created unawares. The Hanus anus gas attack.' (that's in for shock value) HAHAH Is this how Sara Silverman feels all the time?
So She's out. In the aisle, growing in slow and horrific ripples, outwards and on! And he comes walking towards me.
Fighting begins. The inner struggle. Move forward towards, or run away, or say "don’tcomeoverhereIfarted?!
I can tell two of my co-workers I fart. I mean I guess I can tell all of them, but I’ve only told two. Given them the ah 'dirty bomb drop' warning. “so don’t go over there man…” widened eyes paired with arm flailments. Are me and this guy on that level yet? Are there really levels? I just would rather tell him that there is a cloud and avoid the whole- him smelling my nastiness than pretending it didn’t happen and standing in the putrid cloud having a conversation thing- distracting thoughts such as “I know you can smell it, Did you just flair your nostrils? You did. You so smell it. What are you gonna do now buddy boy? Move away? GODAMMIT! I am a disgusting fart machine, that is what you are thinking if me and my fart right now, I am trapped in my own shame filled air” and if I move the cloud will follow.
That could be a slogan for a presidential race. If I move the cloud will follow. holy crap cloud and could have the SAME LETTERS WITH JUST AN L MOVED OMG cool.
Farting is being human. Halllllllllllllaaaaloooya. That was fun, multiple letters all in a row bring me joy. As does register scanners beeping at exactly the same time. As does picking my nose in public, which I also believe we should all be able to do all the time. without guilt or shame.

And on the word ‘neutral’
I helped a lady today with portfolios and I was like super neutral Like Sweden. Which someone, one of my co-workers actually called me recently. She was all you are like that neutral country. Sweden . Then added that it was a compliment. I will so take that. WOO to the HOO! I don’t think I have ever been called neutral before. Manic biatch, manipulating c-nt, f-kin hor, liar on one extreme. Cute, sweet, innocent, decent, inspirational joyous bubbly creative nice young woman with a moral compass on the other. I say if one was to put all of those words into a blender one’d get “human”. More specifically me. I am those things, though I’d like to happily report more on the sane-ish sides these days. In the past, had my co-worker said that I would have hated it. Call me rogue or dark or brooding or dark or daring or rough around the edges with my life experience, or dark. Did I mention dark? one tough bitch..call me those things, not neutral. Today, I take that, with a huge sigh of gratitude. Psychic change anyone? And as far as darkness goes, I’ll leave that to Charlie Murphey. I’m more of a bright pulse threaded in with a dim glow. A nice pleasant dim, not a stupid irrational and incompetent dim. Like dim if Darth Vador and Hans Solo were gay together and adopted a foreign baby from Russia. No not really. Was that inappropriate? Rude? Mean? I don’t know. Someone let me know.

I write things down on little pieces of paper all the time. A lot while driving actually.
This is what I wrote this morning;

A grey day over the city
The orange cones standing out
Like enlarged pores
Atop the concrete surface streets
And by the way, don't come over here I just farted.

JK on the last part.
I couldn’t wait. Had to type it
Lyrics maybe? Anyone? Thoughts?

More later as usual.