Attack of The Void, Again!

After work today, The Void crept up behind me and showed me it's Eternal Bottomlessness of Need once again. I started the car, blacked out, and suddenly found myself wandering the CD section at Barnes&Noble, helpless in the grip of Material Want. The Void's stomach gurgled and groaned, it hungered for more, something new; and, if it couldn't figure out what exactly it needed, substitutes would be allowed.

I looked into my sweaty hand to find a copy of Elizabeth Castro's HTML For The World Wide Web (5th Edition), so don't be surprised if (down the road (path)) some changes pop up here and there at My Cube.

In a daze, I would reach out, pick up a CD, examine the cover, listen a little at the sample player, and put it back. Moving on, smoothly like a hovering ghost who didn't know it had died 3 hours ago. Two boys complained about how "random the CDs are here," fucking John "Blah blah blah" Mayer in the same room as the Misfits and everything's overpriced. They moved on to Iggy Pop, and I blinked as a man asked me if I found everything okay tonight. I watched, confused as he rang up:

• Peaches The Teaches of Peaches and Fatherfucker.
• Bloc Party E.P. and Silent Alarm.
• The Mooney Suzuki Alive & Amplified.

And, now, I am home. Sitting here and wondering, "is it really possible to fuck the pain away?"

An experiment may be in order here...hmmm?