'It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah..'

[nofinalemotion]

My best friends
are the worst
influences upon me.

I'm still so
terribly
impressionable.
Much like a child.

The people who put
me in an incredibly
compromising position
last night had a bbq
in order to make amends.
We ate kielbasa
and made
PORK CHOP SANDWICHES,
which only Larkin
would find funny,
and drank a couple
of forties.
I was full,
toasty and
all warm
inside.
Good times.
It did indeed
make up for
the three hour
long, ten mile
walk in the
middle of the
morning which
I'm still
feeling
today.
It hurts to
step on the
cracks between
the marble tiles
in my kitchen and
bathroom. So much!
Now my mother knows
of it as well
because she found my
socks, soaked in blood
on my bedroom floor and
I was too tired to lie.
What kind of story do
you come up with to
explain that anyway?

I loaned Sarah
The Passion
by Jeanette Winterson
the other day
and she's loving it.
I love that she loves it.
I gave her a highlighter
tonight to mark her
favorite passages and such.
A different color than
the one that I used.
*smiles a bit*
I simply cannot
wait to see what
she particularly
enjoyed about it.
I hope she will
be willing to
read them
aloud
to me.