Tuesday, February 13, 2007
(8:21 AM) | Claire:
Weblog CleansingIt's been a week since I was discharged from the hospital and I'm feeling marginally better. The electroconvulsive therapy treatments have been somewhat effective in reducing my major depression. I know I used to be terrified of global warming, but today I can't remember why. Thankfully, I no longer think I'm a gargoyle and I have made amends with all those affected by my psychotic episode in the metals class. I am proud to say that I have been such a model patient that I am now allowed to inject myself with Haldol and induce a near-catatonic state whenever I need to. I find it particularly helpful to shoot up before work each day. Now that I'm so comfortably numb, I can let the biting, spiteful comments, baseless accusations, and affirmations of my non-existence slide right off me. I'm no longer a gargoyle; I'm a human sieve.
I affirm that I am everything that is wrong with the Weblog. I have poisoned it with a particularly wicked and scat-tinged humor that only a 27-year-old female non-theology student could deliver. I offer myself to you, the readers: do with me what you deem necessary to once and for all cleanse the Weblog of this scatological, non-intellectual, pop-culture-obsessed pestilence that I have introduced.
I hate that I am staying up late to write the hatreds.
I hate that I have volunteered to be the first female homo sacer in the history of the Weblog.
I hate that the people at the bakery are now afraid of me because I constantly stick out my tongue.
I hate that I overdosed on Haldol and ended up soiling myself at work.
I hate that, like the sea otter, I have more hair in one square inch that a human has on its whole body.
I hate that my co-worker is so anal retentive that he can't let me set anything on his desk.
I hate that this co-worker speaks in clipped Chicago speech and looks like he will explode into mess of pizza puffs and cheese fries if he has to utter a full sentence.
I hate that I give out commemorative lapel pins to all those I have fisted.
I hate that there are still some fucktards out there who can't come to terms with my existence.
If you still don't believe, maybe you should read the Tuesday Love.