Blowdry Thinks

There are three things stapled to my ceiling. They are attached to the ceiling (of my room) with industrial-strength steel staples that NEVER COME LOOSE. Three things on my ceiling.

The First Thing is the disembodied head of the creature I killed.

The Second Thing is the disembodied head of the creature that will kill me.

The Third Thing is a round, metallic object. It's hollow. Every now and then, a cavity appears in the object and a turd falls out of it on to the bedroom floor. I put the turd to good use, as you will soon learn.

When I was a young child, I did a drawing of planet earth. It was hardly a perfect circle. It was a vaguely round shape, with green and blue scribbles in it. I taped the drawing of planet earth to my bedroom wall.

NOW, many, many, many, many, MANY years later, the drawing is still there, looking serene and utopian. On the wall. Of my room.

Sometimes, when the stress and pressure and anxiety get to be too much, I lie on the floor of my room and stare at the three objects on the ceiling and...

...it is in these moments that the Third Object, the metallic one, opens up and deposits a turd on the floor beside me.

I pick up the turd, weigh it in my hand, and with an agonized scream, I throw it with all my might at the childhood drawing of planet earth.

This is what I do whenever I'm frightened or upset. I throw poop at the drawing, while the two creature heads on my ceiling laugh at me. One is the creature I killed, and one is the creature that will kill me. I can't tell the difference anymore. I can't tell the difference anymore!!!

I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE ANYMORE!!!

I'M THINKING OF THE CEILING BUT I'M STILL ON THE FLOOR!!!!