Plathological

Light Duty

Have you ever had a scab float off in the bath? The blood moves away from your skin in mist. You cannot help but wave your hand around it. See how far it will go before it disappears, blends entirely with the hot bulk of water. I washed my hair for the first time in five days today. In the middle of my room, as it has happened every time I washed my hair this month. I'm actually too depressed to write about any of the encounters and fests from lately. I'm certain it's my hormones. Or at least it better be. I still have one pregnancy test left in my bathroom. My current anxiety-over-nothing-concrete makes me want someone to find this test and smack me upside the head with it. &, mantra: you're better off sitting at a friend's garage sale for a couple of hours. That is a much better way to spend your afternoon. Protecting your goddamn purchases--it was easy to tell when the rain was on its way down again. God, the way some men are irritates me so much. Give a bad name to all the others. Spent the day with Atwood. Again. And Tom Waits. What must be the most depressing Tom Waits CD I've ever heard. Of course, I was the one to pick it out. Sure, Caroline, don't stop playing it. Whatever you do: don't turn that music off. So: Alice has progressively made me want to kill myself, but at least I got a much needed side table out of the deal. Oh, and the always coveted Velvet Underground. One more for the pile. Hello Nico. My mood just changed. Bye.