1:48 p.m. - 2002-05-04
The motherfucking end.
One of the things that was hard for me when Jane and I first broke up was the fact that I had no focus for my affection anymore. I would see something in a store that I thought she would like and want to bring it home, or I would hear song on the radio that seemed to be her style and want to tell her about it. My lilí sis Kaffer understood, and her suggestion was that I start putting that energy into my friends and family, and that she likes gifts her damn self in case I didnít know.
Well it wore off before I had to go to that extent, but there is still something I miss. The thing is, Iím not likely to give Curtis a foot massage, or run a bath for A-dog and wash his hair.
Speaking of A-dog, that motherfucker has way better dreams than I do and Iím getting sick and tired of it. I dream about my damn boss telling me that I photocopied something wrong, and meanwhile he is meeting Ed Lover and watching naked female volleyball at the beach.
Tonight I am going out with the same crew as last Saturday, plus a few more including my wee lilí brother Matty-poo. I plan to get drunk again, hopefully not slapped, and celebrate my new freedom that seems to open up wider and wider with every day.
I love my friends. I love my family. I love ice-cream (!). And I am beginning to remember who the fuck I am and why I have done the things I have done. And I agree with it.
It is very reminiscent of getting out of some dirty clothes, taking a shower, and putting on fresh clean ones straight out of the dryer. Clean sheets. Clean underwear. It just feels so fucking clean.