There must be something wrong with me. My aunt, on her way out from cancer this summer, dictated “only happy cards and calls.” I didn’t feel I could or wanted to do that, so I stayed away, which made me feel alone and even more sad. I don’t get it, this idea that sadness is out of place.

Do you get high?

Shoot/don’t shoot. Notice how “shoot” is the first option?

I recently bought a box of Blackwing 602s. The only thing I don’t like is it can’t be sharpened with a regular sharpener. I like a sharp pencil but not mechanical pencils. I’m thinking of selling the unused one.

A burka would totally help.

I know lots of alkies who have defined “a” drink as 3/4 vodka, 1/4 mixer in a very big glass.

Oohhh, I love this. Typically, an alcoholic will either change the rule midway—from two to one or none—or just keep drinking, maybe at a different location. That way, the illusion of control goes unchallenged. It’s a good test for alcoholism—though the problem drinker will spin the outcome somehow, so as not to face…

Ooooh. Looking good.

I will be googling Smartfood retailers, because cheese powder.

Just to update: At that time, I had a 60-hours-a-week job with a lot of responsibility. The trip was my hope to be laid-back for a week. As well as seeing some sights. Sigh.

Yassss. This. Took a trip up to Boston once and we broke up on the trip. BF wanted to be up early and see the sights. I wanted to sleep in then see the sights, after bagels. Our married friends intervened (separate counseling during walks), but nothing could save our basic incompatibility. Which was: we had to do…

A man who really cares would put his arm around her, to reassure. You just don’t want to be with someone who needs to distance him/herself from your feelings.

My library’s online catalog is so 1.0 as to be virtually unusable.

Just buy a replacement, dearie, and humbly go down there to make amends.

Vimeo is wonderful for short films (I rely on staff picks). That’s where I discovered the fabulous High Maintenance.

Let the K-post remain in the Dirt Bag file forever and ever, Amen.

You can always tell the crazy ones by the way they hold their eyes open just a little bit harder/wider/stare-ier than most folks.

…a slightly stronger effect…, if you please.

Are you a lawyer?

This week, two FB friends copied-and-posted the same dead-eyed rant about “the gun under my shirt at the grocery store” that “you’ll never know about” but “at least I won’t die while sniveling for my life.” Un-friended.