hyenahell

i feel like a wastrel. i don't know if that's a word. i think my little brother might have made it up. but he's oddly poetic at times, in a smarter-than-he-acts redneck kinda way.

late for work. who cares. bleh. i might not even go in. my (slightly) harrier half is holding down the fort, said he'd call me when it got busy.

meanwhile.

i'm working on those drawings. that i'm late with. very. very. late. which would be fine if it was a school project. but this is real-life work. like, shit i'm getting paid for. like, someone else is counting on me to have this done by last month.

ha. their mistake, i guess.

feeling like i can't do a goddamned thing right, realizing i've been fucking up or fucking around my whole life. and i can't or won't get my shit together.

yeah, it's another one of *those* rants.

every now and again i've got to wallow in my wastreldom. (hell, i *know* that one's not a word. i just don't give a toss.)

listening to the new(er) Leftover Crack album. probably for the first time straight-through since it came out. which was a while back. see, my stereo (which turns 10 in about a week) finally crapped out on me. or at least the c.d. playing part of it. but. thanks to this new-fangled thingamabob that was given to me by my wonderful other half (who, as previously stated, is continuing with wonderfulness by covering for my ass at my crappy job as we speak- or as i write, rather). i think it's called a ... disc-man? yeah. it's neat. you put c.d.s in it, and put these headphones on, and you can listen to music without bothering other folk. so now he can watch t.v. and i can listen to c.d.s and everything is fine.

and that's all i really want in life.

and that's a lie. but for now, it works.

and you know what else? i'm really worried about what's going to happen when i crash from this three week manic phase. because i'm gonna crash. imagine being on meth for three weeks straight. because it's like that.

my parents, incidentally, are flying in tomorrow. haven't even had time to think about it. but i'm always quite pleased to see them. thankfully the house is still mostly clean from the other week. i've also done a more diligent job of picking up after my previously mentioned domestic partner than usual. so the truth has finally emerged- he's the one making the house nasty, not me. somehow i find a lot of satisfaction and relief in this discovery.

and... what else? i suppose i should either get back to the drawings or go to work. if any of you could make any sense out of any of this jarbled mess, then, god bless. if not... well, i vow to respect the narrative flow of everyday speech more next time.

love, all.
-Hyena.