I used to be a tadpole until I read Kafka. Fucking Kafka.I’m finally getting back to work and by work, I mean play, but work none the less. It feels good to curse at MYSQL because it’s being a twat with left-joins, but I’m still having some problems concentrating for more than five minutes at a time.
I figure by the end of October, I should be done being feeling like ass. But who knows? Last time, I lost my shit because I realized how much apartments had gone up and just the sheer amount of stuff that I’d have to repurchase. Before that, I’d lost my shit because I donated way too many baseball cards to a Catholic school full of kids that probably don’t even enjoy baseball.
It’s been enjoyable telling my story to people because they just don’t know how the fuck to respond. It’s like a mixture of empathy and get me the fuck out of here before he starts crying on my shoulder kinda glare.
Life’s been good though. Almost, maybe, probably have a place to call my own.
Got some art supplies. Nowhere near the tub of paints I’d have previous (yup! let those go for $25 bucks because they were too heavy to move) but you can do a lot of things with 10 graphite pencils and a couple books of solid 110lb paper. Always figured the cream looked better, at least when you were going all old-timey, but white will do. Grabbed some five dollar acrylics too.
At some point, I’ll get some BASEBALL! art up. Gotta get a scanner though. Other scanner was…. you guessed it: Put on the curb. I covered that scanner with DMX lyrics and I’m sure whoever grabbed it was all like, “You’ve got blood where? and you don’t feel any remorse? You did WHAT to a corpse?”
Been banning IPs like it’s my day job. If only the internet were like a southern state where you could shoot a bitch for comin’ on you’z property. At some point, I’d imagine I’ll start having some fun with it. The amount of searches for “titties” has grown exponentially thanks to Kim K’s fine-ass body.
It’s nice to be in Toronto with shit to distract a wandering mind and friends to punch you in the balls because dealing with this shit in Simcoe was a chore and a half.
…and, that’s that.
