2004-10-16 - 2:03 a.m.
"There she is!" in a way that I realize I have taken for granted. This used to be the way I was greeted; you walk into a room, and somebody says: "There she is!" I didn't realize how much I missed that, so I cried a little. I've been crying a lot in the past few days. It's bad, but it's good.
I don't want to talk anymore about anything. I don't know how to form thoughts, and if I did, I wouldn't be capable of expressing them. This is not completely true, I'm just having a hard time with coherency the last little while.
There is a public restroom on Burnside that looks like a moss-covered crypt. I ate my lunch in front of it this afternoon.
The architects at work were very impressed when they found out that Uncle Bruce heads Rural Studios. I was swollen with pride, and wondered about why? It's normal, to be proud of the accomplishments of our relatives and associates, but why is it normal?
My bosom is tender like a developing pubescent.
Julie Doiron played a agonizingly long set this evening, that the rest of the crew bemoaned and I understood why, but the truth is I loved it.
I bought a pill organizer at Walgreens last night and felt like my life was drawing to a close.
Elijah said my Grandma has lost most of her will to live since the motor-home burned to the ground. She is taking the money granted her by the insurance company not to buy a new motor-home, but to put it towards their burial plots. My Grandmother can be very dark sometimes.
Sambo Mockamybee