Hell. Also known as Florida.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Mother mother fuck fuck. Mother fuck mother fuck mother mother fuck fuck.


There's just so much going wrong here. So much. Too much.

In a nutshell:
My aunt's killing my grandmother. Max thinks she's already dead. My mother's in the hospital.

Fuck the FAA and their stupid computer

This is redunkulous. Complete horse manure. "Malfunction," "computer glitch," blah blah blah, all bloody flights across the bloody country are at a standstill. Sitting on the plane for hours, without any information to go on, and finally they let us off only to find out no, it wasn't terrorism, but a computer crash. And still they're going to charge us to watch a movie. I need a cigarette. I am sick of Florida, and death, and misery, and over-humidity, and people that work slow as molasses, and hot damn is this ridiculous. Who the hell do they have working these computers, anyway? Incompetent fools that must use Dells. Those Pieces of Crap.

Life and Death

I feel sick to my stomach. Feel like I'm shaking. I am truly dreading going to Florida, for what very well might be the last time.

A Million Ughs

Jericho only let's me hold him when he's napping. Any other time and he just jumps from my hand. Why must it always be unrequited? Why?
It hasn't even been one full week. I should give it more time. But it's heartbreaking. I know it'll take a while, I just hope it won't be forever. I don't want to regret my decision.

I have to pack up my life. I have to write a final essay. I have to take one final exam. I have to socialize Jericho. Jericho needs to get his health records and a snip snip so he can travel and not be so crazy and have smelly pee. I have to either come back to Oregon or fly to Florida. I have to say goodbye. I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want to admit that she might not be here much longer. If there was ever one person that ever I wanted to be there for the milestones it would be her. I have her hands.

I'm not going to think about it. And so I'll focus on Jericho instead for now.

Nothing like Florida to make you feel young and pretty.

summer.
in florida.
this heat and humidity reminds me of summer 2002. maybe it's the smell of tuna in the air mixing with aforementioned heat and humidity. In any case, it brings me back to Brooklyn, when Daisy and I would eat at the corner diner across from Pratt, she with her tuna sandwich and me with my tomato cheese, and both with coffee respectively. Maybe I'm hungry. I am hungry. This place has scary food in it. I'm going to see if I can't manage to eat out while I'm here. No leftovers for me, please.

I am a Gobbler of Books

I returned from Florida last night, and I must say I would be quite happy not to fly again for at least a year. BUT this will not be the case, as I shall be flying to Florida in two months time on a one-way ticket, and will be returning by Toyota Corolla, c. 2001, courtesy of Mama Toby. It's big, and tan, and my granny glasses match it perfectly. That's right, I'm gettin' a car.

I was in Florida for four days and finished two books while I was there. It would have been three, but my Autobiography of a Geisha was in the mail as I left it in Seattle. Sedaris' "Dress your Family in Corduroy" was quite amusing, laugh out loud in some parts. I liked his nonlinear story telling. The other one was H.G. Wells' "The War of the Worlds," which definitely burned its imagery in my brain so that on the drive home form the airport I kept envisioning a burning red sky. Really vivid imagery, that one. Beautifully told, "ahead of its time," etc. The movie failed I feel to drive home the whole factor of solitude felt by the narrator during the course of his tale, as well as the main point of our connection to "lesser" animals (i.e. rabbits).

And now to turn my attention back to the geisha.