Monday, July 10, 2006

Pandora's Box. Heh heh HEH.
or
Apoca-lapse

I have found a most delightful diversion, gentle readers. You simply must give it a go! Pandora is a superintelligent custom internet radio-stream generator. Thanks to the internet music genome project, you can type in your favorite musician or song, and the sexy little flash interface will devise a line-up tailored to your finicky tastes. Personally, I love free music more than raw salmon. And that's saying something.

It's an incredible time-sink. I created a Placebo radio station. Twenty artists I had never heard of pop up. Including . . . Billy Corgan? Whah? I hated Smashing Pumpkins. I knew he went solo but, huh. Wow. I actually like it. A lot. SHIT. I'm buying the CD. Rise, lather, repeat. There's a lot of territory out there, my dear.

***

In other news, I can't sleep again. Fuck. I'd been doing so well since I moved in with Zack, but the insomnia is back, in the form of nightmares. For the last 8 or 9 nights, I haven't been able to sleep more than 20 minutes at a time. I'm so tired that I fall into REM at a moment's notice. And when I do, I find myself in a private section of hell. Recurring themes include: rape (both organic and mechanical), surgical torture, accidental dismemberment of baby ducks and chickens, incest, abandonment (in a darkened space capsule without windows), cataclysmic celestial phenomena (such as the moon breaking out of its usual orbit around the earth and attaching itself to mars instead, thus disrupting the earth's rotation; humanity did not survive), imprisonment, strangulation, infestation with parasites, and the apocalypse. Cheery.

Can't sleep. So on edge. I'll put it this way - I'm so full of adrenaline that when I saw a red flicker on the wall from Zack's optical mouse, I jumped in my seat. I hope to fuck it gets better soon. Maybe if I took my rest in a tub of whiskey.

shiny objects