06/26/2012

 My pants are too big.

This is probably a good thing.  But I have only $45 in my checking account and I can’t afford new pants.  A belt keeps them on me, at least.

My mom is pissed off at me, I think.  She hasn’t called in four days, which is astounding.  We went out with her on Thursday.  We were grocery shopping, and she lost $35 (presumably it fell out of her pocket) and apparently she’s holding this against us.  I’m not sure why.

I spent part of today going through a box of old photographs.  Well, “old.”  Most are from 2001-2007.  Some are from when I was a kid.  I was a sickeningly cute baby.

My sister said, “I’m okay with it, I just don’t want to hear about it.”  My dad was talking about going to jail.  Part of me thinks that if you don’t want to hear about it, you’re not okay with it.

But then, I’m okay with massive orgies and extremely kinky sex and have no interest in hearing about it, so who knows?

My sister also admitted to being emotionally stunted.  I can’t really hold it against her.

I had a tick the other day.  Those little fuckers don’t just bite, they dig in.  There’s nothing more exhilarating than pulling an arachnid’s head out of your body.  My first reaction was to cry, which is admittedly not very badass, but I persevered. 

I’ve been listening to a lot of Nine Inch Nails, revisiting my youth.  “I just want something I can never have.”  So true, Trent, so true.

I started writing fan fiction, which is pathetic.  Like most creative pursuits, it’s always been discouraged.  They let me write music, as long as I don’t talk about it, but poetry and fan fiction are too mortifying to mention.  I suppose if I wrote “real” fiction, that might be ok.  It’s harder, though.

I’m working on a new song.  It’s kind of techno.  No words.  I haven’t been able to find words in me in a long time.  But this particular style of music doesn’t lend itself to words.

I’m really tired.