Other than printing out my e-ticket and confirming my shuttle, the major prepartions are made. But I still have scats^W scads of housework to do to prepare my place to be in order for proper housesitting. During this whole week, the heat has been unbearable, but still -it would be. Even so, between the heat and the new meds, work has been the last thing I've wanted to do.
I got confirmation last night that my ex will try to con me into moving back. I've been here one year and still haven't met anyone outside of my hayseed family. I'm used to a better class of people but in these parts, that means me and my cat.
Looking out over the desert I can't help but to think about that, and to think about the lack of spirituality in my life...not to mention the lack of companionship. Maybe I should move back? If nothing else it would be nice to be away from the junkies next door who prance about like dirty GNU hippies.
I start to contemplate that a little bit but then my mind is mod-bombed by Michael Sims. At teh Michael Sims Network, Fyodor invites me to rap and tap in his crackanhack palace.I decline to cross that line and instead contemplate the cacti outside. Taco's snot but that's nothing new. What is new, and alarming, is Rob and Tubgirls' spouting off in bodily fluid harmony. Theo De Giver is the biggest prick around, but rigor mortis has its' upside, right Mister BSD? As Stallman whispers "know that the source is well and inside of you" in my ear, Mario stands before me, smiling and winking at me. Goatse growing wider and wider...chewing up the scenery; blocking out the sky, blotting out the sun.
Nothing but thee and me and the hole named goatse.
I'm going for a walk, I may be some time.
Inspiration
