the scourge of god

Overcome by restless loneliness, I emerged from my humid cave into the
cool night air in search of food and entertainment. This is dumb. I
have both at home.

I was a bit bummed out by the evenings' original plans falling
through, but that is not nearly as distressing to me as her reluctance
to plan for the future or to give me a raincheck. Really, for all that
women complain about me being an unreadable blank, keeping me on the
hook is laughably simple. Don't give me much besides something to look
forward to and I make for a fine and obedient servant. It's the
opposite of smothering without it being on the opposite end of the
badness spectrum. I'm very easy to psych out because I let it happen.

Please don't become another Hannah, of me falling for the older woman
who actually seems to understand me, and then her deciding very early
on that dating a younger guy with no prospects is a bad idea. All of
the evidence is pointing to that and I should really just circle the
wagons and get out the situation before I turn into a human shipwreck
for another few months.

I watched Shortbus for the first time tonight, as by previous
downloads of it just had me scanning through it for the hardcore sex
and not really focusing on the plot, which turned out to be quite
substantial and important.

Despite having eaten Morseland's 'world's best beef and cheddar' and
drank a few beers I remain in the same sour mood as before. Must be
the bluegrass. Bluegrass fucking sucks.

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