thanks everybody for the fond birthday wishes.
it was lovely. really. the birthday, that is. went to see flogging molly and hot water music. then went to work. in new orleans, for your birthday, you go out to bars with a saftey pin on your shirt, and people pin money on you. kind of a drunken, i forgot your birthday, so here's a dollar type thing. made more money on my shirt than i did in tips. it was awesome. wore me out. but it was fun.
off work tonight. was supposed to go to asylum street spankers but i don't know if i'm up for it.
feeling sick, like i missed something important. heart in my gut. hollow, like i just got sucker-punched. or like something bad is going to happen.
got roses last night from someone. it was strange. felt like i'd done something wrong. i like the guy. don't get me wrong. he's clever. good looking. a lot older than me, but hell, who isn't? i'm not single, though. and not looking. or at least trying not to. so he told me i had his attention, then got into his cab and drove off. it was like a scene out of a movie. i felt bad. i do feel bad. no other woman would be upset to get flowers. but me.
i'm going to make some coffee. rhys fixed my broken coffee pot. by cleaning it. you're supposed to do that once in a while, apparently.
things should be good. i should feel good. i just feel spent. worn-out.
i swear this will be the last journal like this for a while. no more rambling bitching crazy talk. it can't be that ammusing. hell. it's not ammusing to me. just something to get out. like throwing up. heh. this is the puke of my head, my friends.
last night i dreamt i was jewish. and it was passover. mel climbed in through my window and had blue hair, after the police or someone was after her. and we just stayed there. and hid.
love you all. much.
-Hyena.
it was lovely. really. the birthday, that is. went to see flogging molly and hot water music. then went to work. in new orleans, for your birthday, you go out to bars with a saftey pin on your shirt, and people pin money on you. kind of a drunken, i forgot your birthday, so here's a dollar type thing. made more money on my shirt than i did in tips. it was awesome. wore me out. but it was fun.
off work tonight. was supposed to go to asylum street spankers but i don't know if i'm up for it.
feeling sick, like i missed something important. heart in my gut. hollow, like i just got sucker-punched. or like something bad is going to happen.
got roses last night from someone. it was strange. felt like i'd done something wrong. i like the guy. don't get me wrong. he's clever. good looking. a lot older than me, but hell, who isn't? i'm not single, though. and not looking. or at least trying not to. so he told me i had his attention, then got into his cab and drove off. it was like a scene out of a movie. i felt bad. i do feel bad. no other woman would be upset to get flowers. but me.
i'm going to make some coffee. rhys fixed my broken coffee pot. by cleaning it. you're supposed to do that once in a while, apparently.
things should be good. i should feel good. i just feel spent. worn-out.
i swear this will be the last journal like this for a while. no more rambling bitching crazy talk. it can't be that ammusing. hell. it's not ammusing to me. just something to get out. like throwing up. heh. this is the puke of my head, my friends.
last night i dreamt i was jewish. and it was passover. mel climbed in through my window and had blue hair, after the police or someone was after her. and we just stayed there. and hid.
love you all. much.
-Hyena.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
If I walked around NYC with a safety pin on my shirt, I'd probably just get some "Hey, punk rock mid-life crisis" looks and not any money. I'd have to threaten to lunge at people with said safety pin to turn a profit.
Love as always, and too lazy to send roses, so don't worry.
Believe in past life experiences??? Might of had one..