It's funny how really shitty people seem to find each other and morph into one, giant mass-asshole. I look through these stupid self-taken myspace pictures, look at all these people I know cavorting with...well, all...

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So now I have to re-type this entry. I hope it doesn't lose any of it's original flow, but it might. Sigh.

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Last night we called Dr. Dan to ask about the trailer, the land, and me becoming a farm hand.

The night before we called Cindy to get some information on how I can get assistance, particularly with my...

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Unfinished. Resentment sours my stomach, roils around. If only I could have finished this story years ago, the last time I considered picking up the pen. If it had been laid to rest then it wouldn't haunt and worry...

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And I thought all along that I was doing it for myself alone.

Suddenly I've got some audience participation; I wasn't even aware there was an audience.

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He began dancing around his living room, a slow chereographed turn-pivet, while he searched through spindles and spindles of straight media. He picked his favorites, and compiled them for me.

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Now it's morning, it's been morning, and somehow I've beaten him. I don't see his face staring back from the cold shallow surface of the mirror, because we're not the same.

I've won. I've...

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