daily ruzz

fuck.

would you believe that after 2 straight long ass days of trying to get a soap interface into my app framework that i hit a hard to understand bug.

would you then believe that using PEAR::DB_DATAOBJECT and PEAR::SOAP together without modifying the soap package by hand is impossible?

would you then believe that they both bear the name PEAR.

and, one would foolishly presume they should work together since PEAR is supposed to be a code repository.

a case of one developer not talking to another, i guess.

in any case, it derailed me.
and now it's 3:23 am and i want to watch a movie or something because i can't even think straight anymore and watching a movie at this hour is retarded.

fuck.

this is the source of evil

my bed.
it looks comfy.
it looks sleepy.

but it refuses to be what it is.
fucker.

no.

if you go to bed at four, and feel all transcendental and shit, and you can tell your wisdom tooth is going to erupt a bit cuz your teeth feel like they are floating on your gums, which is how it feels before the pain, and you think, no, i'm the master of this pain; you're fucked.

you can explore the pain with your mind, like you explore the indescribable sensation of cold water on your feet when you step in a shower and refuse to pull your feet back--which is instinctual. yeah, you can explore it some. you can realize it's only sensory information. you can explore the waves. the pain, it comes in waves, you know.

but eventually, because it's bad, you are going to be alone in a dark room with nothing but your pain. the novelty wears off pretty fast, and it might get you to wondering what sorta thing you were thinking back an hour ago when you could stopped this through the wonders of medical advancements, and such. you might even question what sorta person would do this to themselves.

and when it gets too great. which is to say, only the pain is present in your mind, and no images of submissive women, or fast cars, or being a rockstar, when you get to there, brain-filled with pain, you're going to sit up (now 6:30am) and hold your hand over your mouth and watch the lights flicker on your ceiling.

now you're just stupid with pain.

eventually, between a wave you will hold on to the thought of ibuprophen long enough to take some, then grab a frozen OJ and a sock, and freeze that baby. and your back to the sensation of cold, and how you still can't describe it.

good thing you decided not to be a writer.

and when another hour passes, and the drugs take hold, and the cold has gone from sensational to reduction you will crawl back into the bed. and sleep. waking only in the afternoon. waking only and wondering why you feel you need to get up.

the world isn't going to change in the next two hours. sleep more. get sleep. sleep is good for a body. good for healing a cold --same word, infinitely easier to describe-- and just good for life. sleep more.

but, you can't. so you get up. you look in the mirror and blood red eyes look back. who is this guy, you might even ask yourself. the din of life being lived, upstairs, invites you on your way. and you go.