"...they say nothing of my life..."

Got to have a fun hangout dinner with lorienbiznitch last night. Lorien and I hit the foodage in South Pasadena, and dared to venture to Hooters, because we desired meat.

There are really unattractive Hooter Girls at that particular hooters, in case you're wondering.

We sat around and talked about boys, and girls; and why women come to Hooters at all; the ironies of a T&A style family restaurant; New Haven Wonders; and the joys of beer. And then all this other shit that I can't recall.

After a half hour of goodbye and 4 year flashbacking to "The good old days" I took off down the 110 blasting Counting Crows to the world.

Then I got home and as tired as I was, and as early as I was home, I couldn't sleep.

Yesterday feels so far away right now. In fact, most of my life is seeming farther and farther away. I wonder how much further it will wander past the vanishing point. Future possibilites seem like dreams, as do things that happened a few hours ago. All one big blur, and I'm not sure that I like it.

I got a call back today, and as usual--as almost always--it was dissappointing news. But hey, I'm getting used to it. I don't like it, but I'm getting used to it. All the best laid plans..."Wanna make God Laugh? Make a Plan."

Watched "The Mighty" tonight. Had managed to never see it. Good movie. Touching movie. And exactly what I needed to see at the moment, since I seem to be going towards that downward spiral pre-birthday funk that I should have known was coming.

Or maybe I'm just starting my Male Period. Or maybe it's the job. Or maybe it's a girl. Maybe I'm coming off of a head-cold depression. Or maybe I'm just a weepy, whiney bitch who just can't deal.

Maybe.

I was helping my mom pull groceries from the car this evening, and she looked at me, there in the dark, and asked me "Baby, are you okay?" I said, yes, but I think that I lied.

Some days it's like trying to breathe
while a fifty pound dog
sits on your chest, drinking Guinness,
and forces you to watch that scene
when Old Yeller gets shot
Over and over and over and over
until you can't catch your breath
and your eyes are full of tears
over a stupid Disney flick,
and all you want is a beer,
and for someone to throw the fucking
mutt somewhere.