Do you ever get sick of yourself? That's what I am, at the moment. Someone send me some pills, thrills, and gills. I wake up as Dave, I walk about as Dave, I write as Dave, I eat as Dave, I party as Dave, I sleep as Dave. That's a lot of Dave. A lot. Way too much sometimes, if you ask Dave.
I need an out of body experience, ASAP. Maybe I should involve myself in a terrible car accident and hover above myself as I'm called to the light, only to pull back within my body with a fresh realization of how awesome it is to be alive, even if I'm only Dave all the time. Maybe schizophrenics had it right all this time. Maybe variety is the spice of life.
Everybody, start prancing!
Blogagaard Loves to Ponder
About Me
- David Oppegaard
- St. Paul, Minnesota
- I am the author of And the Hills Opened Up, The Suicide Collectors, and Wormwood, Nevada.
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8 comments:
Maybe you should try some creative role playing. I hear that is pretty cool.
You and Matthew Sweet, sick of yourselves. You could launch a support group together.
Have you tried at least writing as someone else? Maybe channel Jane Austin and write some period piece about rich English socialites that I don't give two shits about.
Maybe I'll write as some boring doctoral candidate at the the U who's idea of a wild night is staying out past 11 without carrying his cell phone. He'll own a dog and fight crime.
Missy, you are my support group.
I wish I fought crime. I'd put a stop to books that are about goddamn English socialites.
Whoo, I'm on today.
On something, all right!
Badda bing!
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