firethroat

it is 6 in the morning and i don't have work until 1.  there is a small mentally handicapped, deaf, cross-eyed kitten running around my room, his name is windsor.  i am agonizing over the dumbest shit that i have absolutely no control over because i've got nothing better to think/care about.  i realize that whenever i am feeling even a little bit shitty, i take every measure possible to make sure i sink deeper and deeper into a wah baby self-pitty party. that's what i'm up to, blogging seems so suitable.  

dear everything: quit it.