i bought a mcsweeneys shirt and nowhere else in this entry does it seem appropriate to include that
i guess i haven't written a real entry in a while, at least not without making it private 2.5 hours later, so here's a shot. things have been a-notbad lately. i get up for work, walk to pcc, pass the dead racoon and the deader racoon pelt a block later. it doesn't stink anymore, it's sort of sundried. listen to whatever cd i have around, usually with the batteries dying somewhere along the path. then i rearrange them and it gives me about half a song more. sometimes if the bus comes early/i leave late, i go across the street from the deli to the albertsons bathroom to put on my makeup. i think the employees think i'm a drug addict, which in a weird way makes me feel really badass on my walk out the door. work is mostly good, i wash dishes. i talk to rafael about his girl problems. last night, i got in my first argument with rian about howard stern. rian was promising up until he called me close minded for not listening to enough kufo. i'm getting bootsied from work when i leave for armenia. which is fine by me, but i'm getting a little (very) nervous about it. i'm supposed to leave in less than a week, and i don't have my ticket or anything. i also don't know what to get in terms of presents. i don't even know what's acceptable. i have this fear of buying them a giant moose-shaped soap dispenser or something.
i haven't written a poem in over a month but i have said the previous phrase at least 4 times in the past two weeks. when i'm at home, i take comfort in a really hearty summer lethargy. somehow watching back episodes of the daily show seems like the only thing i should ever do. my room is cluttered with stuff from the library which is so fun to pick out and pick up but then just gathers late fees until i take them back. i know reading that philip larkin book i bought would make me feel better right now, but it's like it's totally out of the question. all i know at night is sleep and evading sleep. speaking of which, i'm off to do one of those.
i haven't written a poem in over a month but i have said the previous phrase at least 4 times in the past two weeks. when i'm at home, i take comfort in a really hearty summer lethargy. somehow watching back episodes of the daily show seems like the only thing i should ever do. my room is cluttered with stuff from the library which is so fun to pick out and pick up but then just gathers late fees until i take them back. i know reading that philip larkin book i bought would make me feel better right now, but it's like it's totally out of the question. all i know at night is sleep and evading sleep. speaking of which, i'm off to do one of those.