Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm washing my new bowls and utensils and as I stare out the kitchen window, this mah jong table is staring right back. Even the people 2 floors above me in a different apartment complex have a mah jong table!
I had this odd feeling that Drab would be calling today. And he did. And now I'm sweaty. Ugh. Folsom Street Fair. More gay men and women, only in leather. What experiences would ensue if I go. Oh joy. Another chance to meet more neuro folk. I'm being swept away by the neuro rapids. Neuro-science, neuro-logy, neuro-surgery. Neuroses.
My hands are stained with blood. The blood of fruit flies.
Developing an obsession for apparel- mainly sunglasses right now. Wayfarers, aviators.
Is that what parents do? Let their kid live away from any relatives 2 times zones away, free to do whatever it is they want to do? These moments hit where I wonder what my parents were thinking, why they aren't more strict about my situation. I'm pretty much out of touch with every member of my family, except for those once-a-week calls from my mom, which last for 5 minutes, at most.
1 comment:
I have Wayfarers. Two pairs.
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