The Obscure

I do not have any thoughts in my mind right now! I only have musings over the manner of life and death, I only have philosophies and a single large confusing mass of the irrevocably insane.
Wherefore art thou gatorade? Why not a more delicious drink, white-out perhaps, or turpentine? I do not know what I am doing here, I do not know what is going through my mind. I have in my system, a magnificent amount of chemicals. Pain pills, sleeping pills, psych pills, and it appears that none of them are doing anything but eating away at my sanity and leaving me with my fingers on my clackers and my brain floating, adjacent to the floor, in it's clear plastic tube.
BUT! There is undoubtedly an answer to the eternal question. The question which, according to Lovecraft's incredibly fictional Necronomicon, must be asked. The answer is B. Unfortunately, without an original copy of the Necronomicon to go by, we cannot be sure what the exactly the letter B, in this case, indicates--if anything.

Well, I guess that is all the update that shall be given for now, as I have run out of creative juices and/or am too doped up to compose sentences.

Additions, But No Subtractions
Hello again, one and all. Tonight is a night like no other, bold things have been set aflame in my mind, dreams for the future, closure from the past. I sit here, wreathed in smoke from the burning embers of my last resort, with all of my words flooding back into my fingers fresh and new, as if writing is a treasure that I am to discover tonight, as opposed to seven years ago.
My hair is greasy and unkempt, as it was during my pubesence. It is my own doing, I tried to comb it, you see. My mane is such that any kind of hair product whatsoever destroys it's equilibrium and turns it into a sticky black bird's nest--yet every few months I attempt to tame it with comb and gel, and always I receive the same disgusting result that remains with me for a few days before it entirely washes out.
I am going to Puerto Rico, my friends. It is official, and I would cordially invite all of you to come along with me, had I the authority to do so. Unfortunately I do not, thus I cannot cordially invite any of you to come along with me. What I can do, for what it is worth, is bring my little tape recorder and a pack of tapes, and get the life story of my grandfather and my two uncles recorded down so that I might one day write a book entitled, "The Rise and Fall of the Colón Boys."
Cool idea, huh? I thought so. My grandfather was a sailor, he was in the merchant marines. No doubt he has some cool sailing stories he'd like to share with me, y'know? Everyone in my lineage has led incredibly interesting lives, it makes me wonder why my life is so inexplicably dull. If it weren't for Katie and the Boys ("The Boys," of course, also includes all of my female friends) I think I would actually be a rock, sitting here before you. An incredibly intelligent, handsome, and debonair rock.
I took a few more pills, as soon as they kick in I will head off to bed. Right now I am going to go watch tv until they do so. Woop, I think they just did. Welpity welp, goodnight ladies and gents.

P.S. This addition was written at 2:45 AM