091418 megan is goes to the bathroom. pie is falls from the sky. blah blah blah stupid stupid stupid. I failed twice today. Once in the morning when I failed to get up and write, and once in the later morning when I failed to write more than like two minutes before giving up. Why so difficulty after all these weeks? Why today? Has to do with a lot of things. Chronic toxicity and constant semi-withdrawal. Too many people in the house rubbing against each other the wrong way. Fucking teenage kids who never fucking just go to bed and leave me alone. God I never get any privacy. Jesus like this whole fucking week almost cel was sick and so i didn’t even have privacy during the school day. and by the time i drive lib out to waukesha and get back, i can try to force myself to focus on work for what, maybe 4 hours before it’s almost time to go get megan and millie. Or even if they ride the bus, megan risking another encounter with that little sleazebag whom i really wish i could just fucking kill with my own bare hands, repeatedly, and then shove his fucking shitcovered skull on a stick in front of his parents’ house, then they still get home so fucking early. so like, leisure time alone? is at a PREMIUM right now, and i’m so antsy it’s hard to enjoy it when i have it and i rarely have it cuz here comes megan to the bathroom and then moments later millie literally FLIES down the stairs and she’s back in her natural element: looming around the kitchen banging dishes and counters and cabinets together real FUCKING LOUD. oh god, i feel like such a shit. such an ungrateful shit. as soon as i take a toke you know i’ll be like all sad and distant and melancholy and regretful and like, oooohhhhh you have to appreciate them while you have them, and ooohhhhh you shouldn’t be so uptight and tense all the time, just relax and be open and loving and stop having to proooooveee something all the time, and yeah, ok, that’s all fine and good to a certain extent, but sometimes you just have to stop being so gooey and get some fucking shit taken care of and just walk someplace and say something to someone without thinking about what you just said for like forty minutes afterwards because you said it when you were *intoxicated* in some way, and you can pretty much tell that everyone around you realizes your debonair confidence comes from someplace artificial, or else maybe it’s not really debonair at all and they’re staring at you because you’re obviously some kind of depraved slob. Megan just asked for m&ms at 21:56 at night. I said no, kind of in a hemmy and hawy and weasely way, but I did say no. She always gets so petulant. Ugh. It makes me fucking tired to constantly have to resist her infantile craving for snacks. I can barely even resist my own infantile craving for snacks. OK I can’t actually. But she doesn’t have to know that. This giant fucking trackpad is as big as a trampoline and it’s so fucking retarded because you touch it with your palm sometimes and it suddenly selects like a page and a half of text and then you keep typing and it erases the whole selection, or else it just moves your cursor up to the top of the screen or something and then you keep typing and it just inserts it in the middle, turning everything into cantilevered nonsense. That’s my brain on brains. I just can’t. I don’ tknow if it’s because I looked back too much or because of the pot or because of the stress of teenage girls or because of the ache i feel for libby who would be such an athlete if it weren’t for that FUCKING KNEE INJURY GOD FUCKING DAMN IT or because of the stress of work and trying to live up to full time because so much is riding on it and i don’t know if i should quit the post office or not and this is such a boring conversation. I mean it really is; i’m not just saying that. You are boring the shit out of me, I said to her, and she was like so what and kept eating her popcorn. Apparently that’s the point of this movie. It’s so fucking stupid you just want to kill yourself. And that’s what the audience came here to see. If millie doesn’t stop fucking running up and down the god mother fucking son of a fucking bitching stairs RIGHT NOW I BELIEVE I AM GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM AND RIP MY OWN FACE OFF that’s if I don’t rip it off before then because of how UTTERLY AND ABSOLUTELY FRUSTRATING IT IS TO TRY TO TYPE ON THIS GODFORSAKEN INTELLIGENCE INSULTING PITIFUL VESTIGIAL DISEASED COLON OF A FLAT AS STUPID FUCK FUCKING ASSHOLE KEYBOARD> FUCK YOU see how much can change in a day? It’s ok. It’ll be better later. A shit storm like this can kind of innoculate INCUBATION THAT’S THE WORD I WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER IN THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE you against your own pomposity. I sure as hell ain’t going to sit here and gaze raptly at this one; so the expectation problem is self correcting, and tomorrow i actually might have a chance to get back into my workout groove. We’ll see. If not, then fuck it, I’ll keep going anyway until Dorothea tells me I can stop. She’s the boss.