I get taken in every time

I am useful but not desirable to those I desire. I should have that tattooed on my arm so I can’t forget it.

Then again, it’s nice to forget this for a couple of weeks a year when I’m making the mistake again.

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I might be going to dinner with a friend who’s going to that O’Reilly thing this week. What’s a good place to eat in the Gaslump District? I haven’t been down there in years.

This has got to be even better than Gridiron Cuvée!

A full, rounded vintage that rises around the nose and is satisfyingly sharp when rolled on the tongue.

animal magic

I am already in a foul mood most of the time lately. People who interrupt me in mid-story with an objection to an irrelevant detail should have paid-up life insurance. Word to the wise.

One thing that bugs me the most when I’m out of sorts like this is that I can’t read for extended periods of time. I am a compulsive reader, the kind whose parents had to make sure he wasn’t reading under the covers at night, and it’s a huge pleasure to me. When I’m addled from bad thoughts and rampant emotions, I lose track of things about every third paragraph. Maddening.

The cat has taken to approaching me and holding out her paw and waiting. I pet the paw or “shake her hand” and she seems happy with this. I feel as though i should be pulling a thorn from her paw.

It’s maddening to have this tremendously urgent need to fix things about my life and have no way to fix them.