hastwothumbs

When I first moved out of my mother's house I was living in a group house with a bunch of boys. I was working full-time at an office job and decided to go back to school. So my schedule was work Monday through Friday from 8:30-5:00 and school Monday through Thursday from 6:00-11:00. I was exhausted all the time and hated coming home to messy boy-kitchen. I started going to my grannie's house between work and school so I could eat dinner there. She was a horrible cook and made some really unappetizing stuff, but I didn't have to make it and she was happy to see me. One night I walked in and she tried to feed me a squirrel. A fucking squirrel! The thing is, I probably would have tried it, but it still looked like a squirrel sitting there in the skillet.

*edited to add: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!*

[Edited on Apr 29, 2003]

here's a poem in which you will lear nothing but how terrible my writing is:

title: I'm Living as Me, Now Go Away and Watch TV-

routines, rotated daily,
idiosyncratic as they are.
think about work, family, girl
and perhaps even car.

tinker with this to make it do that-
everyday it's the same.
minding other people's lives and worlds-
we've gotten good at this game.

sickness of the routine is so common
it's scary.
need for the routine is so unseen
although, it varies.

this man i see is sick of sitting still.
ready for nothing, but dreams to fufill.
selfishly changing his own paths because
he knows it's his right.

born to lose, live to win...
living fast and bursting with sin.
smile from ear to ear, he's a wreckless man.
living from fear to fear,
comforts this life's artisan.

worry not for this man, worry not for him at all.
building this strength and tolerance, standing tall-
helping each day make him strong.
strong enough to NEVER fall...