I'm having chest pains. I'm menstrual. I'm having that frustrating thing where all those thoughts of positive change that I was having yesterday are being swept away by all of the physical changes in, as Lauren would say, "my lady parts."
Sprout is here. Sprout is, I'm gathering, upset about something, although he's being tight-lipped about it, whatever it is. But the personality change is palpable, at least to me.
The chest pain is, specifically, a tightness. It's how I used to often feel back when I smoked way too many cigarettes. I refuse to believe that I smoke enough weed to be causing this now but hey -- maybe I do.
I discovered something interesting yesterday while at work: the two anti-depressants that actually worked for me? Weren't SSRIs. They were actually SNRIs. Until yesterday, I didn't get that there was a difference -- I thought that an anti-depressant was an anti-depressant, you know?
Oh, and I think my favorite Siouxsie line is "flaccid ego in your hand."
I had such a good talk with Joey Coconuts last night. I love it when he and I get along.
And a question for the women of my generation: what is it about the song "Fuck and Run"? The word "fuck" meant that it never got played on the radio, and yet it became an anthem for our entire fucking generation. And how is it that here I am, fifteen years later, still waiting for the same things that I was waiting for when I first picked up that CD at Sam Goody's in Chicago?
OK, back to work.