Fear and Loathing in the Afterlife

Hunter S. Thompson capped himself tonight.

That's the way to do it, yo....When life no longer holds any fun, and you're all burnt out and feel like shit, don't just sit around and wait for your body to fail--just pull the curtain down yourself and be done with it. Fuck everyone and everything, just take yourself out of the game and get some sleep already!

(BTW: I never did like Hunter S. Thompson's writing. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was entertaining in some ways, but mostly just reminded me of a watered down Naked Lunch combined with The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test--a far better book by a far better writer. Tom Wolfe should've killed himself ages ago, though, because his last...Idaknow, ten book have been complete shit.)

I don't like the drugs, but the drugs sure as fucking hell like me.

Guh. Back from the doctor's. Again. It's never a good sign when your doctor takes one look at you and says, "You look awful."

I'm on another antibiotic now, Allegra-D (which I think I'm mildly allergic to, because in three or four days it's probably going to give me a frightful sore throat...but for the time being, it keeps my skull from splitting open), some highgrade Robitussin derivative to keep me from coughing out my lungs, and...I lost count of all the shit I'm on just to keep me even vaguely functional.

I honestly don't know how I'm going to get through class today, but I have to somehow....If I were to cancel class today, my deadline schedule would be destroyed and the only way to get it back on track would be to eliminate one of the papers we're doing--and that would destroy my grading scale, so....Fuck it. I'm just gonna have to force my way through. I shouldn't have much trouble at the newspaper tonight, though: all I really do is push a mouse around, so that's not going to be a big deal.

The one thing so far that has kept me from just curling up in a corner and drowning in the slime filling my lungs is the magic of TEA. I drank so much green tea yesterday I was pissing green tea, and today I've been working my way through my collection of black teas. I'm up to Darjeeling. It's decent because the stuff not only helps break up the poison clotting my bronchi, but it also gives me a necessary boost of caffeine--right now, I'd wager that tea is the only thing keeping me from falling flat on my face.

Ohyeah, and I got the Annie album, Anniemal, last night, so I've got that to jam to. Mad fresh synthpop tunes right out of...umm, Norway, I think--I know the album's released in Britain, but Annie herself is Norwegian, I believe, which confirms my long-held maxim that Norway and the other Nordic countries are the source of all great electronic pop music. I mean, fuck: Aqua, Annie, SPOCK, Statemachine, Covenant (when they stopped trying to be a shitty EBM band and went straight electropop), even early Apoptygma Berzerk. Hell, I even like some Norwegian black metal. I'm pretty convinced that Norway couldn't produce bad music if it tried.

Your SomethingAwful.com Quote of the Day:

"Her routine was uninspired writhing and undulating but her pole slide was something that Plato would have written a riddle about."

Reminds me of the last time I was at the nudie bar. If I ever have enough spending money to do so again, I totally need to hit up the nudie bar again and drop some cash on random ho's. I just have to be sure I don't end up dating one of them again. That was a really, really, really stupid move on my part. Ohwell, chock it up to desperation, the influence of too much alcohol, and plain old stupidity.

(no subject)

I would literally give both legs if I could just stop coughing.