November 13, 2007

i swear to god these fucking fluorescent lights have a wavelength, man, a deficient wavelength, call it a tone of the eyeball, and it resonates all wrong, makes my head full of noise that, were it to continue after my exit from the office, would surely gain me admission to a state-sponsored home for the mentally interesting and a fortnight at least in the soft soft room, but because this is califuckinfor-nai-ae i’m sure i’d get in there and they’d have a compact fluorescent in the ceiling behind a whacko-proof cage so i’d be in a straitjacket in the puffy room and the wavelength, man, the wavelength would still be there, and if you can’t handle the puffy room there’s really only one more place they can put you and that’s the chemical restraint, the big big haldol bash in the noggin that makes with the drooling and the mismatched pupils and the endless games of chutes and ladders where you just stare at the board and get sticky while neville sits across from you telling you stories about stalingrad and how he hid in the well when they came for the tsar