Tristen Mactrousers
Blog entry 7 - Day 29
//Still no sleep//
I've been awake for 4 weeks, with no end in sight. The shadows on the wall don't
perfectly mirror my movements. Or maybe I don't mirror them. The hallucinations
are getting progressivly most shroomlike and colorful. Have you ever had a
splendid conversation with a fried potato about the smell of dirt? You don't want
to. Trust me. Lately my hobbies have been reduced to writing crappy stories based
on myself and playing with prime numbers. Did you know that 37 multiplied by a
multiple of 3 is a repdigit below a thousand? I didn't until the cat told me.
I look out the window only to find that my dead mother weeps over her own grave.
My staircase is beginning to feel like Penrose designed it - I can't go up or
down, only hopelessly around in a vicious circle. I have a surprisingly good
physical state, my pinkie toe is happily fused to my foot, and my leg joined to my
hip in unison. Somehow my head is rotated 180 degrees relative to itself
backwards, in a feat of natural geometry.
I'm feeling pretty swell, really. Even the dead mailman I shot yesterday is smiling. I'm
getting kinda worried about him though, he hasn't moved since I killed him. I
actually envy him, and his probably endless slumber. I mean, why do these dumb
dead people get to sleep? It's the living guys who need it!
Anyway, my fridge is on fire and the ice cream I put in the oven is starting to
get rancid, so I'd better get going. Wish me luck!
(Actually I don't need luck. Give me sleep and not idioms!)