I'm missing a few CDs. A few good ones . . . Tori Amos's Little Earthquakes, Elvis Costello's Blood and Chocolate . . .
I'm feeling tired to-day, now, and I haven't really done much of anything yet. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the drama. I wish people'd stop putting lemon juice on their own wounds.
Sometimes I wish the big space mamma that everyone seems to be waiting for would just fall down and crush us like ants.
I'm sounding vague, aren't I? Well, I'm hoping I can hit some people who evidently do not enjoy listening or comprehending. If you're struck, then you know who you are.
I feel . . . sluggish. Drinking some good, very good coffee at the moment.
I had an interesting day yesterday. I kinna went on tour; first to the mall to buy tim the new H.R. Giger calendar for Tim's birthday, then to Tim's, then to my mother's house, then to my biological father's house, then to Trisa's house, and then she and I went to Micheals, the Olive Garden, and finally to the Madstone to see El Mariachi, which we both enjoyed.
I'll feel better if I write to-day . . .