It was Thanksgiving Day, and internally I was bracing myself, grimacing really, in anticipation of the tense annual display of familial tradition at that old restaurant on the water, back in the small town in which we grew up ( Read more... )

Yoga ( Read more... )

I want out, out, out, out, out. ASAP. Do not want.

And though I may only care about people who have a dick, while I may lash out in anger against those I see as "sexual competition," I don't fuck anyone with the door wide open.

Please leave me alone. Really. Just alone. Forever would be good at this point. We are bad, bad, bad for each other.

Clearly, I am not a very avid poster, yet I've been thinking lately that it would serve me well to write more often if for no other reason than to document more of my days so that I might better remember them some day. I'd like to try and wrestle down the details of the year before they've escaped me. Cut for organization, and your friends' list.

As ( Read more... )

I overheard a rather surreal conversation today. I was quietly painting in the studio; it's possible that the pair in the room forgot I was there, but I don't really think so. A girl was telling a guy how she once scooped her shit out of the toilet bowl, put it on a plate, stuck a flower in it and took a picture to make a painting out of it. The ( Read more... )

Today is Columbus Day. The housemates have all gone back home to visit their families for the long weekend. It's just me and the cat in the house, which has been just fine for the most part. Lots of working on my part, and infinite kitten bonding time when I come home. Very nice indeed.

At about 3am last night I woke up to a crash. The cat was ( Read more... )

I purchased my phone and plan about a month ago. For various reasons, I've had to contact their customer service department several times in the past month, with each occasion more dragged out and awful than the last.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Sprint. You must die an awful, awful death. I hope your liver falls out of your anus when you go ( Read more... )

It must be good to be the creator of the Guinness book of World Records.

It must be sad to be an overly ripe avocado.

It must be unfortunate for the friends list readers if I keep writing while Irene readies herself.

I have long-winded and justified explanations for all these things, I promise.

Rocketships. Elephants. Moon. Capillaries. Circles. Squares, when I'm feeling adventurous.

Ingrid Michaelson just about makes me come.

I have nothing profound with which to start this new journal ( Read more... )