happy that i am not one of the lovers out looking for love, on the singles scene, scopin' you out.
happy that the bunhead's blood stays put in its package, not pumped through plastic.
happy that babies are on their way and they're not mine.
lately i don't have the gumption to talk to you or to try to tell you what it's all about and what's been going on. partly because there's too much that's happened and then i'm all gonna be novella-ing up in your face. the amount of shit that changes around here makes for part 3 of my autobiography. recently i ordered roughing it in the bush by susanna moodie and that's because i live in a log cabin with a fireplace for heat and magpies perch outside on my wheelbarrow, looking in my window. i might have a hoedown if i weren't so tired from drying out bread by the fire and bashing it into crumbs just to make part of dinner.
so... yeah. things to look forward to:
interstellar space travel
the success of SETI
a house to live in
becoming an art therapist
driving like a motherfucking gas guzzling suburbanite