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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.
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