surreal
amy sleep erratic, eat erratic, and this is what you get.

a seminar, 50% prepared in the four hours prior to the presentation. two groups: students she didn't even notice. professors she suddenly felt an enormous amount of gratitude towards...she spoke, blathered on...people realized she didn't have anything to say.

it went okay...considering that the end result was that the seminar was really a talk, practice for the real eureka day.

however, the spectre of a seminar was really the only reason she even went through with it in the first place.

she was introduced in a particularly surreal fashion. her advisor put up a New Yorker cartoon of a boy looking at an excited girl on her knees clasping her hands together for joy in a hallway. the caption was "i take it you passed your second year exam." (the caption was fixed by her advisor).

the audience didn't get the joke. the joke actually was between her and her advisor--the cartoon was eerily very similar to an actual moment shared between the two of them (except she wasn't exactly on her knees) after the last seminar she gave.

my advisor said the audience would have to keep me from getting too excited after this seminar.

is it any wonder that she chose this man as her advisor?
991210
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valis you work with people, and you only get one half of their lives. they walk from place to place with a purpose, muted or otherwise.

out on the streets, in the bars, it's a rough, surreal transition. people are searching for something here there is no index for, release from pressures, anonymity and approval. most people only hold down daytime respectability so they can smile that smile when asked by a stranger, "what do you do?"
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skiblu everything's surreal just before sunrise when the world is waking up but the inhabitants are still asleep...
But I can never tell the distinction between that being true or my mind playing tricks on me in the dull light...
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shinya onna Indulging sighs.. Watch the milk moon crawl up and away in the lead laden skies. Trickled beams, lonesome as wayward could possible seem.Fairies dance, to and fro leads to a path way made into prance... 000822
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Tulse Luper I ought to write this, indeed I will not. Surreal is a word that explains something, or, perhaps, nothing. I'm going to fetch the giraffe now and put him in a red telephone box. The man with the bowler hat is in the salad. Hello. 010117
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ares the makings of something surreal can only come from the teapot of our thoughts, where the whistling of the steam is our minds giving to the clouds of thought in the worlds collective kitchen 010121
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minnesota_chris I was thinking this thought this weekend...

If there was an opposite world, where everything happened the opposite, we'd have different Christmas traditions. Santa would be this mean skinny guy who would come and raid your house every December 25th in his red suit. And instead of leaving cookies for him, maybe the beloved tradition would be to leave little active bear traps around your fireplace.

And you could wake up December 25, and find a little gnawed-off foot in a red boot in the trap, when Santa was forced to flee...
021209
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Death of a Rose lock makers and trap construction crews would boom the economy.


and surreal is my lies to myself
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Lemon_Soda Hard to escape, really. 031127
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Death of a Rose are my lies....fuck me with hand grenades 031127
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no reason it's like something from a movie
or my imagination
or one of those fantasies i'm supposed to manifest into reality

but what to do when it starts out being reality?
reality-fantasy-(reality)?
the line is uncomfortably blurred

and sometimes i'm afraid the only reason i'm so drawn to it is because it is so absurdly surreal
041129
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Syrope the non-drowsy allergy meds that have a warning "may cause drowsiness"

waking up from a dream that i was sleeping next to you and reaching for you only to be disappointed at 5:20 am

these loud-ass keyboards

resting with my face IN the coffee cup because i just need to breathe in something warm & wet & caffienated

missing you this much...you just left yesterday
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colorful goth chrismahunikwannzica, and those tv shows that say happy holidays while showcasing a picture of santa. 041221
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pink paint finding 041222
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f pink paint..

completely forgot that was my name,
made it up when i was .. you know.. nuts maybe..

don't remember much of that time..
the days where doctors stuffed me with chemicals...

"don't you think i had enough chemicals for one
day" i said... oh no.. they wouldn't even tell me the name of the stuff i was taking... they just would not listen to me...

diagnosed as crazy...

yes maybe ... but...

you can tell me what i am putting into my body can't you?

if you treat me like a baby...
i will simply be one..

i'm really not worried its great being a baby.

sooo..
after their prowd treatment ...
so intelegent i must say...

they left me to deal with the after effects on my own..

how was i to know what was happening..
why i was so depressed..
a part of life... deal with it..
yes i will , i will have to
you now why ?

because noone cares about you feeling sad
about your truest feelings..
its all made up ...
its all in your imagination..

don't be stupid girl !

..
don't be rediculous
.. get a grip


well i would if i wasn't a vegetable..
shove some drugs down her...
lets experiment!

actually .. nobody listened...
they all said i was crazy stupid..

they never understand me,
they don't want to...

because they don't want to open their eyes, to listen for one minute... they make judements before i have even said anything....

i can go on forever but ...
the thing is...

it wan't just a year of sickness...
it was 4 years of sickness .. 3 of which they are not resonsible for.

all it was really is that ...

i will tell you another day.

x
070226
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Phil Everything starts making sense soon after you begin to die, except him. The first thing I remember him telling me was, "This is you."
I never asked and intend to someday give Surreality a stern poke in the eye. "Ah" was all I managed to utter. The "Wizard of Oz" had it right all along, snooze button, caves.
Canvas and boom, instant coffee, his bare foot drags below the hulk of steel and aluminum. ...The great mass sparks, and then teeters on one toe; its full weight grinding bone. This is all I see, all I recognize. I am not aware of myself at all.
The road scatters like slippery ravens, like ornaments tossled in a tree; the only choice we have is to keep going after the trivial things are gone.
Quickly springing up to recover what we've lost to the world; too scared to think or stumble, our friend barely awake as each beat drains blood from his face.
They run serpentine across the dusty places to save us, giving up for us a bath, a look on their face that lets us continue doing what we can. Our ambition, a semblance of control, requiring complete abandonment of all other issues; until we are left with nothing.
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a clever disguise so_real 111216
what's it to you?
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