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 Latest
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Diaryland |
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2002-12-08 - 2:23 a.m. Yup, the dishes are still in the sink. I got back from work today, didn't make any of those dishes dirty, but there they are for me to clean. At least my dad didn't leave a note saying, "YOU BETTER NOT LEAVE THESE DISHES IN THE SINK FOR YOUR MOTHER IN THE MORNING!!!!" You want to stir some shit up in this house, soak some dishes I tell you, and the shit will never end, that and leaving crap in the room that no one ever steps into. Both will give you the n-th degree from ma and especially pa. Work was uneventful, delivery people getting high, me just running around doing everything imaginable. I didn't have any time to slack, it was one of those days. I get home at 8-ish, John is up. He's doing the graveyard at the 7/11 now. So now you figure, everyday, one person in our family is up at least. Spooky. We caught that HBO movie about the CNN coverage of Iraq to the build-up of Desert Storm. It was good stuff. Michael Keaton is a great actor, he's highly underrated. Helena Bonham Carter is just all kinds of hot I tell you, had that bracelets-all-up-her-arm thing going, wearing black in Iraq, and that face, damn, angelic. Anyways, it was cool, I found it interesting, and not offensively patriotic. Later on in the evening I rolled over to Nick's to help him on his new "zine" idea, man is chocked full of fucking brilliance I tell you. Anyways, me and him were thumbing through old notebooks of mine looking for doodly artwork and the like and I brought over a shit load of books. I still got my 10th grade AP European History notebook. Looking at that shit just makes my hand cramp up. I had some old poetry throughout, scribbles of rhymes, pretty dope ones too. We found some old AP US history quizzes from 11th grade. He and I used to grade each other's quizzes and we used to pen in stupid answers in questions we couldn't get right or bonuses just to crack each other up. So we're looking at stuff like, number 5, Andrew Carnegie, CHECK, number 6, RAP-A-HO, X, number 7, LOW GRADE STREET CRACK, X. I passed out at Nick's, scared the dog and him with my snoring powers and went to 7/11 to pay my respects to the donut and coffee gods and to say "hi" to John boy. What a Gully day. Before breakfast this morning, I came to a realization that everytime I was trying to change my mood about life and things in general, it was just me acting. I had a flash of all things I thought I tried forcing on myself. Doesn't matter how I feel though, it won't make the dishes disappear any cleaner. God I wish my bitching would.
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