Capt'n Captious
There's someone laughing in the hall and with the moon in Leo, I'm just not having it. Ha-ha-ha. It's all poison.
Maybe not. I have a tummyache though, and it's kind of making me grouchy.
I need to eat better. I just kind of forget to, which is weird, but when the broccoli seems stuck to the bottom of the plastic container it makes more aesthetic sense to go have fries. Even if I'm sick all the time and think my nails are going to fall off. Ah, oui, the glamour of a hypochondriac. Sex in a puke bucket.
But what makes me smile is this Mary Black song "Treasure Island" because it reminds me of years past and makes me feel encouraged. Life's so weirdly tough, but you're the only one you've got. I don't...precisely...want to be that woman. You know her, you do, whose big insistence is that she took care of her own and kept herself going as if that's the only moral requirement in this postmodern world. And it's not, not to me, you have to be much more giving and respectful and liminal than that. But I do think that's a weakness for myself, managing my own life in a, well, respectful way that acknowledges that I need certain things as well as I need to eat some vegetables and vitamins and water and stop being this carbo-cookie-freakshow-matic that I am right now. I'd probably feel less premenstrual and savage than I do, if I could swing it. But I'm grouchy while I'm making these new life plans so that invalidates them when I wake up in the morning, so you know.
I am such a spastic.
I'm gonna leave it at that. I think I spewed enough verbally that I might not need to do it physically. I hope. Can pepto go bad?
Hmmm.
