  however far away, i will always love you back at matthew's house. and this time the attempt is going to be openly futile because it is raining and sad and disgusting and any cat in its right mind will not be going out to do whatever cats do when they are out. but i worry. endless conversations have been had about my worrying. this is just who i am.
and if he can actually eat tonight, even if he doesn't come home, i will feel slightly better. and now, in the interest of talking about something other than the fucking cat, i just learned from mtv (and who says cable doesn't teach you anything? ) that eminem almost got in trouble with the secret service over the following couplet, from a song that was leaked to the internet: "i don't rap for dead presidents/i'd rather see the president dead. " apparently this constituted a physical threat to the president, but they have decided to drop the investigation.
way to take music literally, guys. way to completely misread metaphors. of course, mr. mathers has been out of the public eye for a while, so at the very least people are going to start talking about him again. and besides. without a pistol or a posse could he really kick anyone's ass? he's tattooed and all, but he strikes me as little.
maybe i just don't examine him shirtless enough. him without his shirt, i mean, not me. the other thing i learned from the cable today is that i now have a new reaspect for ag. (to the uninformed, which may be you, buddy, ag=xtina=christina aguilera. ) she of the dirrrrty, who most people i know have a love-hate relationship with, or to be more accurate, a hate-hate relationship. also apparently my ass-poor eating habits and my tendency this week to walk 3000 miles a day has made me lose 2.5 pounds.
yay for living below the poverty line! the days are just bleeding into one another. there is a core group of people who i am keeping in touch with but that's mostly by phone or the yahoo instant messenger (tm). in my next life, i would like to be a cactus. they don't ever get lonely or randy or lose their jobs or worry about making rent or worry because they can't afford a good christmas present for their father.
or anyone else, for that matter. they're..just...cacti. they just ARE. i think that would be great. you may or may not interpret this as a sign of growing complacency. i wish to make it clear that it's not. i wanted to be a cactus before i entered the wonderful world of government cheese. it's just that when you aren't working, even if you hate your job you still have a sense of purpose. and i have lost that. i don't know what my purpose is. or rather i'm slowly beginning to have inklings of what it could be but no one can snap their fingers and make everything happen right now right this second posthaste please.
if anyone can make that happen, please tell me how. soundtrack: kate bush, "running up that hill" (amazing what you can find when you hunt through your boyfriend's computer--this may or may not help me forgive him for the ace of base) (smirk) (out.
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