Caffine Dream Killer

September 21, 2006

Recent events have brought into focus an ever growing caffeine fuelled schism within my being. Last night, in the autonomic low ebb of my stimulant cycle, I gave a recounting of my day so boring it destroyed a women’s libido, and forced the majority of my brain to shut down in protest. I don’t think there was even any content to it, just a sustained droning noise with “so anyways” and “Basically” repeated as a sort of reiterative mantra. My vital wit and personality reserve had been so depleted earlier in the day, that by 9:30pm I was a depressing husk of my diurnal self.

In the natural course of things the flow of AJ-ness is tightly regulated by various interbrainular functions, allowing a steady flow of charisma and cleverness. Conversation is made in discretely engaging bursts, quips and observations polished then released, and a healthy degree of self monitoring is applied to all behaviour. Then comes coffee, that Columbian neuro-slut Jezebel, demanding I emote harder and faster until I blow my creative load in a multi-hour midday money shot that leaves me flattened and drained. But she’s not done with me yet; no sooner do I bottom out then she’s talking me up again “Oh papi, you think so crazy when I’m in you, I bet you’re the smartest chulo ever”. This car crash chemical romance lasts until my stomach is churning and my neurons are firing dust.

By the end of the day I am a jitterring sparked out wreck, unfit for the most banal soccer mom banter. A nap of at least an hour is needed before I can face decent people; two before I can make any sort of impression. This begs the question: “Why don’t I stop drinking coffee and escape the Icarian cycle of java hubris I’m currently in?” I don’t because I can’t. The ever increasing amounts of caffeine have genetically altered me to the extent my natural effervescence has become chemically keyed to an outside agent; sans coffee, or it’s brethren, I would gradually slip into a zombie-like torpor, wherein I would be forced to seek employ in the federal government. That was a long fucking sentence.

The only reasonable solution for this dilemma is to evolve past the need for sleep. In pursuit of this goal I have hired an Aboriginal shaman to stalk me in the umbra and kill my dream self. Once the half-murder is complete I can only assume the shock will forever lock me in my waking state; spiritually dead, but consistently alert and chatty[1]. I will let you guys know how it goes.

[1] And then I can complete my lifelong goal of becoming a door-to-door salesman.

Like this? Read more by AJ. Or check out our web comic: Passive Depressive.

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9 Responses to “Caffine Dream Killer”

  1. Dr. Entropic Says:

    “Then comes coffee, that Columbian neruoslut jezebel, demanding I emote harder and faster until I blow my creative load in a multi hour midday money shot that leaves me flattened and drained.”

    I just jerked off twice behind Tim Hortons.

  2. A scientist of some sort Says:

    Be careful young man, the interbrainular functions of the dream dead can become highly fustigated.

  3. engtech Says:

    Welcome to my life. I started drinking coffee regularly about four months ago now, and I’ve already found my will to live draining. I’m a complete bitch before the first cup, and absolutely useless around four hours after it.

  4. Mike Says:

    Your caffeine addictions pale in comparison to mine, look me up when you’re free basing folgers under your desk while claiming that; “One of my computer cables has come unplugged.

  5. w()rmwood Says:

    “I’m a complete bitch before the first cup, and absolutely useless around four hours after it.”

    Sure, blame the coffee…. =P

    (just kidding)

    I actually switched to decaff, a sad but necessary step in my long term survival. The people at the coffee shop still mock me, but on the plus side – my heart has not exploded and a complete nervous breakdown seems to have been averted.

    =)

    Of course – when school rears its ugly head again, my lips will be locked back to that hot black magic faster than a 2-bit crack head negotiating alternative payments with an ebony pimp/dealer.

  6. JiFF Says:

    I cut my self off coffee a while back.

    It was making me all… Hatefilled, spiteful, angry, wound up and other qualities.

    I thought it was only good for the world.

    That’d be one huge explosion of JiFF the world doesnt need.

  7. seekr Says:

    I’ve become pro-coffee since the Eurotrip… but then again, coffee over there is nothing like the tire-flavoured, feeble-bodied, just-this-side-of-sulfuric acid lemur piss we get over here.

    *sips cappucino*

  8. Donna Says:

    Maxwell House and I held down 2 jobs,raised 3 kids and made me a shit load of money on the breakfast shift.What’s not to love!!

  9. Nir Says:

    Ah. Coffee. The saviour of all techies. I really should quit.

    In reply to seekr – yes – American coffee is very similar to making love in a canoe. How you people drink this bile is beyond me.


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