I'm thankful for:

wine and lobster.

the simpsons.


rambuctious drunken escapades


music


my full head of hair




my distaste of those who obsesss over Disney characters

Just shaved. My leg hair = long enough to comb. GO NEGLIGENCE!

Why is it that when I really want to write, and I feel confident in my abilities and passion, my laptop is 118 miles away and my parents have no paper in the house that was not manufactured, packaged and sold to be used as a shopping list?

My mother has decorated my old bedroom with black and white photos of dead relatives, most of whom I never met. One of them looks just like my brother. None look like me. I'm a Palka Picasso, apparently, taking bits from everywhere to collage myself a face.

It feels like the Dead-Berts are staring through my back.

My mother also replaced all traces of my teenage girlhood with paintings of boats and/or baskets of flowers that remind me of Beatrix Potter.
also:
I miss my hetero lifemate, Meredith.

I got drunk last night when I really shouldn't have been...I've drank twice that amount and not felt a thing the next morning...but I guess I'm getting old. So that sucked. I blew that money and that time for a bunch of sickness. New rule: no beer while drinkin casually at home alone.

But that's not the fail to which I refer in the subject.

I fail because I got my period.

Another month, no baby. I don't know what the problem is. I'm very healthy. I've cut my drinking and caffeine intake a lot since I was 22ish. Maybe I need to do that even more? I've been taking prenatals for almost two months. I know my cycle. WHAT is the problem?

I refuse to do anything artificial to get pregnant with the possible exception of minor tactics that don't involve drugs. I want to adopt but whenever I mention it I feel like everyone's against the idea.

I miss Allison.

I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back and again where-- I don't know.

Round here...
I always stay up late.
Round here...
I try to radiate.

DO NOT USE GOOGLE!


Who were/are the presidents of the United States who were/are Quaker?

When I start feeling like I'm gaining more confidence here, I get ripped back by a slow-approaching flood of sadness. It's because I try too hard, I think. I hope to hard. I hope that I can recreate that certain brand of happiness, because it existed before and I never knew it.

It's like I'm Gatsby. Trying to go back. But you can't go back.

Frankie was fed at 3 this morning. We was fed again around 8. Why, then, was he meowing and biting papers and generally making a ruckus this morning, crying for god knows what?

No idea. But I needed to sleep. So I locked him in the bathroom.

I wake up an hour and a half later and he had torn the door off of the heating vent. I didn't even realize that particular door could come off without being unscrewed.

He's quite possibly the most amazingly Houdini-like cat on Earth.

I will be in the Albany area from November 20 to November 26. The night of the 21 I am going to see mc chris, but after that I have no plans. Alan is leaving on the 22 to come back here, and will be coming back for Thanksgiving on Wedneday. We're leaving the night of Thanksgiving.

So...

I will have no car for the majority of time I will be home. I need to make plans and get rides. I will need to spend sufficient time in the North Country, of course. :D

http://www.timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=865748&category=STRANGENEWS

In other "news", I have a shooting pain in my hip/butt. I want it gone, or at least dulled. I can haz some painkillers?

I am in a stage right now where I hate my writing, past, present and future, and I feel like no writing goal of mine is plausible or worth it. This feeling will change, undoubtedly, as it always does, but it is best to write about it and have it exist in the ether of the Web.