A lovely week. Every night my mother continues with scraping things against the wall of my room a few times before she goes to bed. My father has been chasing me around the house a little each day, not too much, quick jerky movements, intimidating posture, immediately beginning narratives about what he can see I'm paying attention to when I enter a
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Here's a weird question that you've probably never had before: What type guitar was it that you had? I saw it in one of the pictures, so... just wondering. Do you still play?
And Merry Christmas, by the way.
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It's an alverez 5056. Sturdy little mid-priced thing, perfect for couch music.
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First example that comes to mind, I have a fireplace in my room, but I don't like it to be lit as the smoke irritates me sometimes. "Hey, do you want me to make you a fire, sweetie?" "No thanks, I don't want one right now." Five minutes later they're pulling out the firewood and crap. "Oh, thanks, but I said I didn't want one." "No, No, it's okay, you'll like it." Why bother asking me at all if they don't care about the answer?
I state simple facts and they don't listen. They dismiss it. And they talk to me like I'm seven. They aren't psychotic, but they are idiots.
Blegh, whatever. I'm usually only home to sleep. I go to bed late late at night, right as they're waking up, and by the time I wake up, they're at work or whatever. So it works out okay.
I just got an Epiphone SG Special. ^_^ I happen to love it. I had my eye on a Gibson Black Beauty, but... um, $800 is a little much for my tastes.
Hm, and you might be interested in this song by Voltaire, "When You're Evil." It's ( ... )
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no, i'm not evil, but for 30 years my parents and sister having been telling stories to subtly lead people to believe that i am. i'm said to be deranged and generally bad.
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