billybillybilly

Merry fucking Christmas. For serious. For now anyway.

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I really wish I had internet at my place, then I could upload a brand spankin' new avatar, but I can't. Alas...

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I read a bad book that, all things considered, wasn't too utterly terrible. And probably the thickest I've ever read in a day. And that, my friends, is good times indeed.

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Sleep? What exactly is that? I know I've done it before, but the concept is just a little hazy right now. I'll figure it out eventually.

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Sweetie letters:

#1 Sweetie, sweetie... don't blame him. Please dear, please please, let's just own this one ourselves, eh? I love you so much, but you've just gotta stop *saying* it's your fault, and actually *feel* it. It only hurts at first. After that it's kind of a dull ache, and then later you actually get to accept it, and that's fucking brilliant.




#2 You know, I really thought you were interesting and all, (and not that I've changed my thinking too much, you're still quite lovely) but you're really quite the hypocrite.

You can't honestly *not* talk about books, art, music, or movies, even though these are things we're both interested in, and accuse me of making "non-conversation." It doesn't work like that. My only other option is to ask how your day was, and I'm kinda coming up short on how else to phrase that question.

Politics, I can understand. And work too. These are wonderful things to not talk about. But I don't care about your cats, and knitting doesn't interest me enough.

And when we start actually getting somewhere when we talk, just let it go there. Please, sweetie, don't tell me to change the subject.




#3 Hey tiger, I miss you. Grow those wings out a little further, and maybe fly by sometime. I'll keep my window open.

(...but I won't hold my breath )


#4 Exactly who are you, sugar?