I am Jack's bored frustration.

So I am listening to Radiohead Kid A right now and letting the little piano sounds echo around my head as well as my room and I am wondering when everything got to be so bland. Like it's still here, and surrounding me, but nothing is causing me to turn slightly and crook an eyebrow in wonder. I question nothing, nor care to see what gears and pistons move and swing to create what is before me. I simply sit on the platform in front of the cogs and wheels and let them run over and over and get a headache at the repition. I am Jack's bored frustration. I just want to see some vibrant purple and gold fireworks EXPLODE across the sky of Unpleantville!!!! Where is the color. Where is the madness. Where are the orgasms and gaping wounds. Where is the ringing laughter of little children experiencing their first dirty joke. Where is the first drag of a cigarettte laden with the fear of being discovered by a very disgruntled parent coupled with the excitement of doing something you're not supposed to. And where is the unexpected lick of the neck by a handsome stranger who's eyes are glowing with the heated expectation of possibly getting you naked. Where is the purple? Where is the rich warm purple?
I need to get out of Bloomington-Normal. Stat.