::Collision

toplayalongathome:dearloversocialdistortion

The thunderous smash of a firefly on a windshield. I always expected a shower of sparks instead of luminous goop.

Tonight it feels like I’ve bled out, like the last of my luminous goop is spraying out into the aether to make surreal graffiti on the passing galactic ultratankers. I’m tapped, drained down to the rusty core. And it’s almost over.

Almost.

All the backburners have lit at once and the damned kitchen is on fire. And I have to get this food cooked.

Unplainspeaking: finals week. job. job. babies. cancer. money. moving day. too much. no sleep.

I did ace my trig final. Yay me, motherfucker. Thirtysixhoursofcramming actually did its job. That and realizing with 15 minutes till deadline that I’d botched up one of my formulas. Managed to redo an entire page of stuff just in time. Ace, ace, aces high.

I’ve just played all my cards on that one game. Got a final project due in 36 hours that I haven’t started — no time. The house we were going to rent next month has fallen through and I need to find a new place to live — no time. I need to make money — no time. Two more finals. Garr.

I’m supposed to be working on that project now. I work graveyards, it’s only 2am. I should have gas in the tank for another four hours. Can’t think, can’t read. (I can type, tho. Go figure.) Not sure what to blame this on. Me, I guess. There is only so much.

Schoolwork has to take precedence over… well, over me. Right now. Which probably means if I can’t think now, I should sleep and thus accelerate forward the time I’ll wake up. So I can fire up the engines without implosion.

Need more luminous goo. (Man, that’s fun to say. Try it.)

More soon. I’ve promised myself more writing during the summertime.