Navigation

* Profile
* New
* Old
* First
* Random

Credit

* Host
* Design

Cherish and I
Always have nostalgic music playing.

Why is that everyone keeps trying to recapture the past?

Social things seem mixed lately. Jay's store is picking up traffic, so it's a little faux pas to sit and stay for hours upon hours. I imagine he'd be okay with me dropping by to read. I may end up doing that. I'm mindful of the fact that I shouldn't be there daily.

I think that if Mom comes through with finding shit for me to do regularly, I'll feel a little more even.

This weekend, I'll be doing her backyard. I doubt that will be too hard on me. What worries me is the wallwashing part, that will come later. I told Grandma that I'd do hers, too.

I keep thinking of Jay's windows, and how I botched that job. Walls are fairly similar. Hoboy.

I think if I had some kind of weekly labor going, things would even out more. It would keep me busy, give me a little more money.. so on.

Mostly, I think of it as a small way to escape the hell of Sunday Life. I can step from there to some kind of official employment. And, from there? Who knows.

I'm seriously starting to fret that my life is going to be this inane forever. Just a long, drawn out struggle against impending insanity. Just one long losing battle. Unsung, unaccomplished.. unloved?

I wonder if we all fear living like this, in some way.

My issue with my life is mostly that it's one that jumps between insanity and brief normalcy. In the normal periods, I do this stuff: look for shit to do. I draw, do my little hobbies. Get out.

Then I fucking break.

Is this all there is for me? Will I always be The Special Person? The weird one.

Whenever I see myself in relation to my Fellow Crazy People, I still think of myself as a kind of reporter. I see what goes down, and try to assemble a description of some fashion. I'm somewhere between really fucked up, and not enough.

I'm terrified at the prospect of living my life with the threat of mental incompetence at every crossroad.

I'm not some jabbering nut on the street.

I'm a damn 20-something, hiding out in an apartment, warily watching my mind wander and roam.

I'm just not like anyone else, no matter what the condition comes up as.

You Missed:

*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

Backlog:

Circa 2010