Fuck 'em.
*sigh*
Head: Sometimes we just don't agree.
There is this pull to continue writing about my grandmother; and an equally strong pull to not write anything more.
Also, the Semicolon Preservation Society is pushing hard for their continued, repeated use and championing the cause for global dominance among punctuation. FYI.
I am not used to sharing those things close to me. In Kindergarden, during that portion of class, I just kicked other kids. Even then, I didn't like children, nerve racking sons of bitches, it's no wonder I rally behind outbreaks of small pox and tuberculosis. It's survival of the fittest baby, now, take your cholera bath.
I want to move forward. She would want that. Besides, all I have to talk about is the screaming, horrific death faces and guilt from wishing I could do it different.
No one wants to hear that shit. Its fucking depressing and I know this because I don't want to hear it anymore. I am looking at me and I am saying, Fuck You, Shut the Fuck Up.
It's done, its over. I just kinda wish I had one of those Teletubbies to hug and chase bunnies with for a weekend. Instead, this one will involve the beach and a big fat bathtub.
Amen.
It's funny how life just comes barreling back into view Mack truck style. I forgot how therapeutic routine could be and just in time for the beginning of the byproducts new school year.
Alarm, coffee, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, chill, bed.
Rinse, Repeat.
Poor little baby lambs are missing their summer break, sleeping until 3pm and galavanting around the meadow with fluffy little clouds in the sky.
Aw. Sad. Do your homework.
Thursday we are going to see Interpol at The House of Blues. I think I am ready to rejoin the Land of the Living. Or get really drunk and dance.
Either one sounds like a great option, to be honest. Jagerbomb, I dream of you warming my tummy. MMmm.
I am considering changing my work hours to four 10 hour days, so that I have Mondays off to paint, draw, photograph, cast, sculpt, create.
Not sure how this will blow over at work but I am hoping not like a lead balloon. Or a big yellow tractor.
I take that back. I would like it to blow over like a big yellow tractor.
Yup. Totally.
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