The pool was crappy (a dozen screaming kids; I got out when they accidentally held me under water). The doctor was crappy (more on that later ... maybe). And I started the day with an email that was either reassuring or else a big ol' kiss off ... but then I had kind of a respite of a lunch ... reminded myself that I didn't want to play this stupid game anymore ... that that was the fucking point. I always had to be right. I don't need to be right anymore. Nobody is "right." None of this is "right." And once I lose the need to be right, then I stop fighting. It was a nice realization. Letting go of the need to be right means that I'm not fighting anymore.
And then I did some stuff at Kinko's for anarqueso and antiochwhore.
Oh wow ... Peezy's here ... I didn't see him when I first came in. I'll have to go and say hi.
And I may as well open up Pandora's Box as long as I'm here:
Does everyone learn their patterns of love and comfort from whatever the most fucked up thing about their childhood was? My brother feels most comfortable when he's around the sick & the dying. I, apparently, will always choose to boil myself in a giant pot of crazy.
Man, I want a cigarette.