#goldenleaks

[justinjohn]

Okay I will stop. I just, I am sorry.. I am just so titillated by this Trump golden shower break in the news, I can’t help my photoshop impulses. I just feel like maybe we replace the torch for 2017 to this relevant alternative. If Trump has a stylist, I can send this outfit over as an option for what he should wear to the inaugurination inauguration. I can guarantee it’s waterproof. Everyone’s been bitching about the cost of security for his family in New York at Trump Shower I mean Tower, but have you even considered how expensive it is going to be to cover all the white house couches in plastic? 

God I am so juvenile. It pains me to think how immature I am, and what’s worse is I can’t even change myself.  I had all these flashbacks today of getting thrown out of class in middle school for trying to make people laugh during serious moments. And in church? Forget it. There was something about the solemnity of mass that already had me on the precipice at all times of a deep bellowing guffaw just vociferating inside of me to get out and God forbid someone not eat breakfast and pass out in the pew or drop the body of Christ on the floor, I was in goddamn stitches for 10 minutes. 

It’s splendid to see 25 years later I haven't changed a bit. Still doing stupid shit for no reason other than I like to bring out the farcical side of life because well, we all take things too seriously.

On that note, I’ve stopped sleeping basically altogether. I’m plagued by what some people call ‘night terrors.’ It’s essentially the nighttime version of paralyzing anxiety but it’s really fun because when you go to sleep it’s like you enter through a portal into a horror movie inspired by your own life, which usually culminates in your own untimely death, or a humiliating calamity for which there is no resolve or solution-- well, and that’s usually the fun part where you wake up.. And to be fair, it’s not so much what I call ‘waking up’ as it is shooting to consciousness with a blood-curdling gasp realizing you’re not dead and feeling for all of your in-tact limbs. So it’s like also really exhilarating, like I’m a cat with recurring lives after ones just been killed off and I’m back again.

Night terrors are super convenient. They usually occur somewhere around 2 AM, so I jolt awake in abject horror and check the clock to see I have tons of time left for more terrifying nightmares. I tend to rouse with drops of cold perspiration running down my forehead or sometimes just entirely submerged in a pool of my own sweat, so it’s kind of cool like I did a workout while I was asleep and didn’t even know it, except for the fact that instead of cooling down with a water bottle, I have to take a xanax. 

So, like, people complain about insomnia and stuff, but I just love my night terrors. They keep everything just sort of ‘fresh’ you know? I never have a dull night. Like, I don’t know if I’m going to sleep a whole night through and wake up rejuvenated (just kidding- I don't know what that word is anymore) or if I will lurch awake multiple times throughout the evening wondering if my neck is still attached to my head or if my body, indeed, exploded with the bomb I created with my imagination which detonated in close proximity to my person. It’s so suspenseful, too, because I get to piece together what happened afterward. Like, “Oh, my God, I am not actually dead and this is just a dark ceiling..” or “No, Freddie Krueger did not actually hacksaw off my arm; I was just sleeping on it.” That sort of thing. It’s like being resident Sherlock Holmes of my own bed.  

Anyway, if you haven’t had a night terror lately, it’s a wonderful way to manifest your daytime anxiety also during the nighttime hours. It’s a fantastic avenue to maximize an otherwise boring 8 unaware hours lying in bed and adding (what-some-might-deem unwanted) mental operation. With night terrors, you’re active, stimulated not only by racing thoughts but also pulse, and then of course you have the ensuing 45 minutes after a nightmare to collect yourself, try to understand questions to which there are no answers, and of lie there as your heartbeat goes back to rest, staring into the blackness, ruminating, “why am I like this?” So, all in all, it’s a treat. I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight and see what my silly mind comes up with next. 

As soon as I have insurance again, I am sure a doctor will have some really valuable insight into this, and we will have some great laughs as he signs that prescription pad. And then in 10 days I’m going to wake up with Donald Trump as my president and realize that that wasn’t actually a night terror at all and is just real life. So I’ll need a script for that, too. 

Kisses to all,

Justinthecity

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