thats what your mom said

I’m at home and its late on a Friday. I drove around a lot today, not because I wanted to but because there are many places I must drive during the day. To work, to the thrift store, to home to that guys office, drop her off, pick her up, get them liquor and then they short me ten bucks. But I don’t much mind cause I’m not a stickler like that, and I’m not going to hold a grudge for ten fucking dollars even if it does fall under the "bullshit" catergory.

Things have been, you know, going. Same as they do and always and have been. Went to hometown. Took a xanex and smoked a number of joints. Had a water balloon fight and rode in the backseat of a truck that was manned by an obviously intoxicated friend. She’s mexican though, she can surely get away with it. Or get deported. Hung out with a boy I used to be infatuated with and still, in senses, am. But not in a romantic way so much as a "god you are fucking cool be my best friend" kind of way. Either way I doubt the girlfriend approves.

Keep telling myself to write something with substance but instead I spill out poorly executed blogs that no one reads, not even me.

Lighters are always lose and my hair is still unruley. Sex is becoming weird for me, like I don’t get it or I don’t belong. But I get off fast and last night, after I did, I got a knot in my throat all tight and big, like I wanted to let out a million tears for no apparent reason. But I swear, I’m not the tortured type and I don’t hate my life. It could have been the awkward sex or maybe it was the emotion that was awkward. Maybe I’m one of those chicks that has to create complications where none exist just to make myself feel important. No, no, things could be way more fucked up if that were true.

The hipster friends are throwing a bigass party tomorrow night in honer of a birthday. Hipster Friends used to be a lot less hipster and a lot more humble. They used to have normal hair and basketball shorts and an acoustic guitar instead of an electric. They used to smoke blunts with us around our kitchen table and sip cheap liquor to the tune of a million menial conversations. They used to hang out. Now, they have spikey product induced hair, a keen and comely fashion sense, and DJ equipment which, lately, has been getting them money and gigs and a high hipster status. But we sit back, she’s a chef and I’m a writer and we’re just not that flashy.

I worked all day and people sucked. I shaved down manic, timid, aggresive dogs all day to the sound of the Arctic Monkeys CD which is fucking unbelievable fucking wonderful. By myself at work is nice except its workworkworkwork with no helphelphelphelp. And that equals loads of NOTFUN.

The girlfriend’s restaurant got a review in the new times yesterday. That’s why it’s midnight and she’s still not home.

I walked Gordon tonight and it was warm. The grass is dying but the complex tries real hard not to let it. I was on a hill, on the grass, by the fountain that shoots up dirty water, and the sprinklers came on. and I stood there. without moving. and Gordon was scared and pulling. And I stood there. cause I thought it was the thing to do. because at that moment, nothing felt better than drops freezing cold water on my face, over my glasses, and on my forhead. Maybe I’m crazy. I think I was just hot.