Hey Heyy We're the Monkeys!!!



I don't know. I feel crazy. If I had seems, they'd be on the verge of splitting. All the hair on my arms are standing up. My spider sense is tingling. Foreboding is a word I would use if I didn't know what trepidation meant...

There's something welling up inside me... I just hope it's creative and not destructive. When I get frustrated, I get stupid. Today when I was cleaning out the last of the crap from my old apt in Bloomfield, I was two matches and a bottle lighter fluid away from screaming, "FUCK THIS!" and setting the whole place to Hades. And to be honest, the only reason I can find, the only source for these emotions, must be my mother.

Now I love my mom, but I can't fucking stand her.

If neurotic could stand up and walk around, it'd look just like Mom. You think I'm joking. You think I'm exaggerating. "Yeah sure, my mom is worse," you're thinking to yourself as you read this. No. You're wrong. Everyone thinks that I'm overreacting... till they meet her that is. Nothing is ever done. Everything can be worried about, fussed over, and changed. There's no line of reason or logic that can derail this crazy train. Even agreeing with her does nothing to stem the flow of this tidal wave of worry. Being in her presence liquifies my mind and leaves me befuddled, bewildred, and berry irritated. It's almost as if someone is whispering in her ear that THIS decision is the one that is going to destroy the world if she gets it wrong.

This isn't even funny... it's more theraputic. I don't even know if it helped.

-jOn