I have been a bum in the most serious sense of the word this week. I have done nothing, aside from an occasional organizational moment in my bedroom. The new apartment is still in disarray and the reality is not yet firm. Almost there. Again though, it feels like Tiff has gone to visit for the week and it feels like, despite the job, I am staying with a friend. Although my room is cute and Ernge seems content here, I cannot settle in just yet. I haven’t been social, even at my most antisocial, this would seem odd. And I don’t feel guilty or melancholy. I feel completely at ease, completely comfortable, but only because I have no choice. I am starting to get antsy. I feel the need for one of the old school crew to be here to make it complete. I need a night of “the asshole hat” and drinking Tabasco sauce. I need Sublime and sunshine.

I punked out on plans to go to a fair tonight to sit here and write and listen to reggae.

Why does the singer from My Chemical Romance look so much like Michael Jackson to me?

No comments: