Autobiographically Too Flat

Bitch bitch bitch. Today I was slipping into a dark mood, due to various things (mostly the fact that today was the first day in a week that wasn't completely beautiful). That and my rash (over which I'm taking off work tommorrow). It's ok, not contagious. Just icky looking. But that's not the point. As I say, I was starting to get into a bad mood.

And I realized, after I returned from the Duane Reade with a pack of Twix, that I SO have absolutely nothing to be upset about. You know what I did yesterday after work? Met some friends in Central Park, then I went home and cooked some baked ziti, played some Jedi Knight II, watched another episode of Twin Peaks, and experimented with some painting. GOD my life is difficult. Oh, and also, work yesterday involved me going to DataVision to look for computer parts. Tough life. So do me a favor, write me an email and tell me to quit my bitchin'.

And Jeff wasn't around all night yesterday, which is always good. Not that I don't like having him around, but it's nice to be able to walk around the apartment with my pants off and not feel bad about it.

I've taken going to the ghetto grocery once every couple of days to pick up things for the apartment. I do this for a couple of reasons. First, it's on my way home. Well, I need to get off one subway stop early, but the walk isn't that big a deal. However, the walk is long enough so that I don't want to have to carry a whole bunch of things on my way back to the apartment. Also, even though I have a palm pilot, I still neglect to keep a list of things that I want in the apartment to eat. As soon as I get home everyday it's "Damn, did I forget soap again?" If I had a nickel for each time I've had to wash myself with toothpaste, I'd be a rich man. So I buy two bags full of stuff every couple of days. I figure my kitchen will be completely set up sometime in early September. Oh, also, I really like going to the grocery. I feel so deliciously out of place.

Oh, I thought of another problem I have. I way too much of a jackass to keep from touching things I've painted to see if they're dry. And they're clearly not dry, since I'll touch them barely minutes after I stopped painting. Which means I invariably fuck up whatever it is I was doing. Kind of a disaster, but I have no one to blame but myself. Yesterday, I painted a mirror translucent yellow and translucent green. And now the yellow has my fingerprint right in the middle. Dumbass.