February 23, 2005 - 1:37 p.m.
lie on your bed in the sun
maybe some vitamin d will be good for your mood.
'MY mood?!'
look at your face.
yeah. i know. i need to write an angry letter to myself.
what's wrong with you.
everything.
even the cat doesn't help.
okay. marginally.
i love the way she holds the blue cable between her paws when she lies in the corner looking at me type.
her tail is disproportionately puffy.
she's not a rabbit a. she doesn't eat carrots.
crunch crunch.
i can't eat. maybe i should work out. but my knee hurts. maybe i can work out with the ball. where's the fucking ball video?
'i want nyquil and dayquil and gingerale and saltines.'
i want ice cream.
that certainly wont help me with the working out business.
'and a hot drink. '
i've already had wine.
'and i want someone to write my proposal for me.'
does any of this make sense?
who said what?
chester likes the bathmat
at least someone likes something.
i hate everything.
seriously.
even you.
and you.
and myself.
and smiling.
pouting makes me giggle though.
sortof.
and when you talk irritatingly to the cat in the miss swan voice.
i like that too. even though i pretend to hate it.
and i want laser hair removal.
the pain would feel great right now.
'let's go do things that make us happy..
but hide at the same time.
let's go get me medicine and saltines and chai lattes...'
and steak.
and roses.
maybe we'll win the 649 jackpot.
things certainly could get worse.
let's hope not.
'I'm gonna go outside.'
me too.
'you can't, your knee hurts'.
i don't care.
