Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.Lynda Barry
i have the shirt. i have the shoes. i have brand new jeans that are the perfect middle color between blue and black. i have hot pink fishnet socks, and a new necklace.
i also have a breakout that is threatening to put all other breakouts to shame, and that extra 5 pounds i've gained since starting college. besides which i broke a strap on the shoes the first day i got them, and they fit weird. there wasn't enough time to ship them back and complain and get a new pair, so they'll have to do.
tonight's the night i see The New Crush (and his band) again. and i have no one to go with. i don't blame L. for not going--i wouldn't want the first day i see my ex to be valentine's day either. especially an ex that made things so incredibly hard for me. my brother ditching me is to be expected, but still sucks; if he manages to do it, it will make roughly the third time since he's moved back home.
but i'm going anyway. why? because if there has to be valentine's day, at least it can happen at a punk rock show. because i dig bald boys. especially bald boys who are nice to everyone and still somehow tough on stage. because hopefully after that, i can go to the loop lounge and go dancing. because maybe i can bring along the bald boy.
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
Matt Groening (1954 - ), "Life in Hell"
 |
 |