9:20 a.m. - 2009-05-31
i was not invited to a bbq before the show. more than a lack of communication. more like, wife deleted my number from husband's phone out of insecurity and no one else happened to have my number. um. just a big fat um.
lots of curse words. lots.
my heartache is like a headache.
beer is not my friend. whiskey from here on out. nice and slow.
or water. water's good.
i wish i was fat and ugly (or insanely, irresistibly gorgeous, where men and women oggle-oogly at my feet). i cut my hair, that was a start. now i need to get really fat, never wear makeup, master wit, and smile way too much so people's wives won't be intimidated by me, so i can enjoy a fucking bbq before a show.
the show went well, though. not a huge crowd, but it was more of a going-away party for a couple of people who are moving to chicago.
a lady dropped her parakeet off a couple of days ago saying it didn't get along with her cat. so i brought it home and Rowan named him Brillia.
i try sometimes, and i don't know why. why why why.
i'll sing. i'm gonna sing.
fuck. big fuck. fuckity fuck, fuck a damn duck.
my brain is slammed.
no sense. nothing makes sense. beginnings of ends. beginnings of ends.