Lots o'pissing for the pot

Ah, blogging, blogging! My online journal has kept me sane for far too long now, but considering it's done in fits and starts, all is well, all is well.

I am insanely tired and stressed and ready to throw both of my parents out the window. Life lately is a school of pain, loss, rejection, fatigue, and other things that make up great novels by Charles Dickens. I am wondering when my husband will appear, or even if this man exists, which is doubtful. For those of you who are shy with the opposite sex, especially when any kind of like or attraction is involved, you will know exactly what I'm talkin' about, Willis.

At any rate, the world is becoming, according to our 24-7 media, a far more scary place than previously glimpsed in any movie by Joel Schumacher. Just kidding! I have nothing against the man, but he's always being beaten up by the very critical movie press. I guess they're jealous of the dude; I can surmise nothing else. People who inspire such jaundiced, bitter, awful criticism must be inciting and/or stirring up some kind of envy.

In other rivteing news it is warm here in ye olde New England today, and I am still enjoying the viewpoint of the folks on gawker.com My older brother, who is an asshole most of the time, failed to recognize my birthday, as did my Aunt, who has her own emotional issues. I will retaliate through the power of pure, sugary-sweet kindness, and thus make them both feel like asses. You can see my Catholic school upbringing has stood me in good stead.

I am almost done with my book. Yay! Yay! Yay for me! I am very excited and pleased and proud although at this point I think it's the worst fucking crap ever written. I would also like to sleep for five days, although my father believes that grown children who live in his house should be gone as much as possible, which makes it hard to rest. It's hard to rest in general, especially when everyone seems afflicted with post-traumatic stress disorder and you live in a country where introverts are regarded with the same general suspicion levied towards the tax man. Ah, it's hard to be alive, but a good healthy existential crisis is invigorating folks, really!

I would like to audition for another play. I did this recently and really enjoyed it, although I didn't get the part. I miss having my own space in which to write songs, like I used to when I lived in Maryland in a scrubby apartment where many mice (ugh) liked to nest in the walls. My landlord was a completely horrible Dickensian like creature. You haven't seen ugly 'till you've seen him.

Well, I must flee. Be well.