It's 2015, and I love myself. Whodathought I'd get here.

Holy fuck I'm 29.

I broke up with Billy. Towards the end he really let his truly abusive colors shine through. I am heartbroken and relieved and I know that the something-better I deserve is coming.

I get off work tonight at 5, and would love some company if anyone feels like hanging out in the Slope or trekking to Sunset Park. Give me a call or a text.

So fucking bored.

I took a shower for the first time since surgery, and am now looking at my body.

Except for the bruising and some swelling, and the funky way my nipples look (as they're being reattached), I don't have to recalculate.

I feel funny. Anticlimactic, in a way. Very much a sense of, now what.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

I am updating from Bolt Bus simply because I can.

I'm coming home today! Visit me!

So, I am bored as hell, and want to get back to my regular routine.

Of course, as soon as I get back to my regular routine, I'm going to want another vacation.