my truck is dead, and i am hopeless.
catalogue, dialogue, monolgue, expose.
i think i ran out of beer just in time. i ate dinner and it tasted amazing of course, but i could feel my heart speeding up before i was done eating. i feel ridiculously good for having been drunk a while ago, except for my head and the actual mood of the brain within it. i have a slight headache and i'm lousy and hopeless and tired. but i'm also tired in a good way. a relaxed way, with the kitchen window open. there is a cold draft breathing in and a small space heater running near my feet. i like it when one part of my body is cold and another part is near a small space heater that is running. i feel so nice, and i feel like complaining.
because i am stuck. "are you gonna be stuck there when i drop you off?" "yeah but, i have food, and a ride to work on monday..." i could have also said i had six beers that i planned on drinking throughout the afternoon but i didn't; because *edit: i decided it was better not to and save myself from the attempt at guilt that i've come to expect. what the fuck am i supposed to do?
i'm supposed to get a bus pass. and carpool to work with nice friends. and maybe somehow fix this shit and work on it with my dad. only i'm the one who's supposed to be helping him instead. with his dead car. i wish i could just do that, and not have my own problem(s) at all that i need help with. which smells kinda selfish to me, i dunno. i don't really care about any of that. i care about being stuck in this box. and i care about losing a relative freedom. one i've lost and gained back and lost again several times throughout the last decade, but, (and it shames me to admit this now) i never lived by myself before.
thanksgiving was nice. it was good to be in the desert again for a day. went up wednesday night, after the half day at work, after the truck died. slept well on the couch, after staring out the passenger side, driving down AV road, after listening to perfect from now on as we drove up the hill. to the last place i can remember feeling like someone.
jesus fuck, am i gonna start writing about the desert again, or am i gonna fall asleep and dream about it.
i think i ran out of beer just in time. i ate dinner and it tasted amazing of course, but i could feel my heart speeding up before i was done eating. i feel ridiculously good for having been drunk a while ago, except for my head and the actual mood of the brain within it. i have a slight headache and i'm lousy and hopeless and tired. but i'm also tired in a good way. a relaxed way, with the kitchen window open. there is a cold draft breathing in and a small space heater running near my feet. i like it when one part of my body is cold and another part is near a small space heater that is running. i feel so nice, and i feel like complaining.
because i am stuck. "are you gonna be stuck there when i drop you off?" "yeah but, i have food, and a ride to work on monday..." i could have also said i had six beers that i planned on drinking throughout the afternoon but i didn't; because *edit: i decided it was better not to and save myself from the attempt at guilt that i've come to expect. what the fuck am i supposed to do?
i'm supposed to get a bus pass. and carpool to work with nice friends. and maybe somehow fix this shit and work on it with my dad. only i'm the one who's supposed to be helping him instead. with his dead car. i wish i could just do that, and not have my own problem(s) at all that i need help with. which smells kinda selfish to me, i dunno. i don't really care about any of that. i care about being stuck in this box. and i care about losing a relative freedom. one i've lost and gained back and lost again several times throughout the last decade, but, (and it shames me to admit this now) i never lived by myself before.
thanksgiving was nice. it was good to be in the desert again for a day. went up wednesday night, after the half day at work, after the truck died. slept well on the couch, after staring out the passenger side, driving down AV road, after listening to perfect from now on as we drove up the hill. to the last place i can remember feeling like someone.
jesus fuck, am i gonna start writing about the desert again, or am i gonna fall asleep and dream about it.