What a crap week. Here’s this crap week’s OneWord log:
After a nice, hot shower, I checked myself in the mirror. No trace of “shovel hands,” no bags under the eyes, no dried up blood on my forearms or face. Yes, Mission “Become Single Again” was complete. Now, to hit the bars.
Holding my notebook that I was supposed to be writing in every day this year. I wanted to fill every single portion of white space by the end of the year. Anything, a drawing, a sketch, a poem, some fiction, some notes, some nonsense, even…Instead, I’m not even half way there. Lame.
All strung out. He was trashed. Such an easy target. Should I? I mean, when one cannot defend themselves, it’s considered almost sissy to bring such an end down on someone in such a state. Eh, to hell with it.
What. A. Babe. The cute little maid my family hired this summer has the face of an angel. An ass carved of stone. A head that would look beautiful mounted above my bed.
Going into the basement, I remembered that I had forgotten to take the cake out of the oven that was supposed to be made for his birthday. My son, the 15 year old runaway. Never coming back. Now all I have to do is bury him and alert the authorities!
I am as near to freaking out as I’ve ever been. It’s almost impossible to work with some of these people. I have a degree in design, so what do I REALLY know about design? Should I really be taking advice from someone who doesn’t even know the primary colors?
Miles of blood. Miles. It just kept going. And the smell, God, the smell. There were innards. There were bones. It was hell. It was…lovely.
Enjoy today’s haiku:
This weekend is the
first weekend in a long time
that I have LONGED for