Over-Tired; Locked Out; Brains Frazzled...

TIRED. VERY TIRED. All weekend. ~All day. Listening to the radio. Listening to my inner self. Even when I attmeptedly called Vanessa this morning while giving my leg wound a decent squeeze I was reprimanded by the receptionist: "OK thanks for phoning. We might get back to you."

(In other words, "Your call was FAR too rabbitty and we cannot abide 19~to~the~dozen demi-incomprehsensibles like you. Please don't ring back. If you do your number's blacklisted so don't worry about it"... Surely something like alll that.)

I couldn't BELIEVE that I, Mr glibly blogging articulacy himself was discounted from speaking across the waves because I was too bumbling... such a shocking sign of the times. Such a shocking sign. I'm tired. Had enough. Can't do this nonsense any more. That's what life style has styled me out of...

So I'm finished.

My whizzy new window. My heavy new window. When I tie a tie round the handle; guess no what would occur. I'd tie the ligature round my neck. And crouching from the sill, jump down. My sheery eight would slam my window shut and my tubbiness send the latch clicking closed. Hence I'm locked out, hanging right in full view of my downstairs window's view, legs jigging and all underoing that "danse macabre" (the dance of death") right in his full view. Locked out of my own room by my sheer fatty overweightedness; jigging haplessly. Unless Mr Downstairs had the presence of mind to grab a scimitar to cut me down, I'm gone. Otherwise worst of all worlds: cut down; twenty-foot fall ~ two broken legs and a crushed windpipe with no voice. Horror upon horror. How I had broken...

I'm sorry to be negative, posting bad dreams, rotting imagery of the death-dancing self. No!

Though I've had enough of today and all my views, my life tells to me that a radical haircut and somehalfware across the world can achieve.

I have to go now. Apologies for nonsenickalness. Late. Tired. Frazzled. Depressed. Bear with me ~ if you can ~ ... Most appreciated...
;->...