. . .

The Jitters

Since no one ever sends me email (No. No one. EVER. Any memories either of you have of email being sent to me are fabrications by the Mayan conspiracy. (Of course there is a Mayan conspiracy, the proof of this being that no one has ever heard of it.)) I find a need to send email to you. In the hope that you somehow avoid the Mayan-induced apathy and respond in some way. I know I'm just fooling myself. The Mayans are too strong. Fight them! Resist! They may rule everything, but they can't be watching all of us all the time. If they were, you wouldn't receive this, or at least receive an altered version thereof. However, if you got something else, and mailed something back, they would alter it to match what I send, so it wouldn't really matter. I would live in blissful ignorance.

Actually, if I'm mentioning the Mayan conspiracy now, that means that there is none, that they are in decline, or that they are allowing me to say whatever I want in order to reassure myself that there is no actual conspiracy. Who can say. Who can say. trust no one. Keep your laser handy.

Keep your laser happy. If it isn't happy, it'll start looking at you funny.

Anyway, getting back to the actual topic of conversation (which is the jitters. Check the subject line if you don't believe me!), I'm feeling amazingly jittery. It's probably the sugar I've inhaled today. In various forms. There were the walnut cookies, the Nerds, more Nerds, Thai iced tea, Yellow curry shrimp (if you don't think that has sugar, you obviously haven't gone to the place I go), and finally, more Nerds. I am utilizing immense self-restraint in order to avoid bashing the keyboard with both hands over and over until they bleed. Hold on just a minute.

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I feel better. Sort of. Except for the fact that when I did that, my email attacked itself. Irritating.

No stranger to Alloni's fits of movement, we leave him here to beat on the table.

I must have used too much.

Not sugar. A while ago, I realized I was suffering fits of random emotion at frequent intervals. I decided to change this somewhat. I created rotating spheres inside my head, and when I had an emotion I wanted to put off, I would pour it into one of the spheres. Works surprisingly well. When I wanted a particular emotion, I would reach into the appropriate sphere. I had to be careful to avoid contamination, of course. A mixing area! Just a second. Okay, as I was saying, I left the spheres alone for a while. This morning I checked them. Still there. Still chock full o' stuff. I reached into the mania sphere, just to check. It must have fermented. That would explain the jitters. I'm certainly manic. There's. No doubt. About. That. I may have to toss the whole batch.

Or not. Come to think of it, I'm kind of enjoying this. I'll just set up a full-fledged lab so I can distill the mania back to it's roots, and I'll be set. <Image of spheres rotating about each other against a grey background. Suddenly a lab spreads out around them, crystallizing out of nowhere. An odd mixture of a mad alchemists' place, a scientific laboratory, a wizard's workshop, and some straight wierdness. The flying spleens and esophagi, for example. You see a treadmill in the corner. The spheres pause, as if confused, and then start exploring. Their motion is less simple rotation now, and more random flight about the room. Though there are no walls, none of the spheres leave the area defined by the lab.

You look more closely at the spheres themselves. They are easily identifiable, not by color, for each one rapidly shifts, but as a general mood. One hangs almost motionless in the center. Another flits busily around, banging into furniture, and occasionally emitting odd speaking noises. A third seems to be making a slow circuit, checking everything around closely.

Holding your hand up almost to touching the spheres gives an even better idea of their contents, though this can be dangerous. You almost graze the third one you noticed, and a feeling of curiosity tempered by deep thought overcomes you. You stumble, and trip into the path of one you hadn't noticed, one that hovered near the "floor". Your leg passes through it, and immediately goes dead. Apathy takes you over entirely, and you sink down. Your vision goes black.

You are awakened hours later, as Alloni taps a more energetic mood into you. "I told you this was dangerous." "When?" "At the beginning of last paragraph. I'm a trained professional. I know how to deal with my own head. Others can be less lucky." "Fine. Can we move on?"

The scene fades.>

This concludes A Trip Into Alloni's Inner Madness.

Well, no, I think I'll keep going. Ha!

No one responds.

I am alone in an infinite nothing.

Yes, it's Alloni The Goth action figures! With Action Suffering, and Kung Fu Grip Of Despair! With a variety of black clothes, ranging from black silk shirt and slacks, to black jeans and black JTHM T-shirt.

Or Alloni Badly Needing To Go To The Restroom action figures! With special jittery legs! Comes with blue jeans with a slowly spreading stain on the front!

Or best of all - Total Loser Alloni! Includes sign with "Will give blowjobs for crack money" written on it, and real lice!

Hold on. I need to avoid owning that special pair of blue jeans. I'll be right back.

I have returned. I lie - I'm wearing slacks.

Odd. Have you ever noticed that I use the phrase "It's entertaining" too often?

Still, I must be going. I do have some actual work to do. I've been putting it off all day, I really should get to it now.

Later.