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2:38 pm | 07 December 2003 | as though your entire world hadn't capsized

Okay. I am really trying to maintain here. I am sorry there are not more entries. I am scattered.

Since entry previous, the following:

-Did not make drive back to LA. Stopped in Bakersfield at Homestyle Inn, as was too barftastic to continue driving. Oh, did I mention? Yeah, food poisoning. Sucks. Eighteen hours of it.
-I get up the next day, drive into LA feeling like hell (didn't get much sleep). Four miles out of Long Beach, car breaks down.
-Car gets towed to Firestone station. I walk three miles to landlady's house, give her a KING'S RANSOM in money orders for apartment & dog deposit &cetera. Walk back.
-Car is dead. Forever. i cry.
-Five hours later, delicti gets home, where I must crash since no car. Bombs are dropped. Apparently since I was aware of bombs' existence I should not be alarmed by their detonation. I feel like the border between India and Pakistan, cry all night.
-i decide to go back to Chicago and try to work seasonal job or something for two weeks rather than sit alone and carless in empty apartment hoping to be die in sleep and be eaten by animals. You can't live without a car in LA. It's a freaky retarded truth. It's too sprawling here, and the public transit system is a joke. So anyhow I fly out tomorrow. Great. I looooove flying. This is sarcasm.
-Saintlike, amazing Team H parents are helping me figure something out on car front, but since I have no job as just moved, can't really finance anything. Frick. Now would be time for sort-of-dodgy Team Dad* to step up to the plate, but historically that is SO TOTALLY NOT THE CASE. Humph.

So, my lovelies, you can perhaps understand the mega-blackness of my outlook and my little soul right now. I can't eat anything except some candy--i got about sixteen peanut M&Ms down yesterday, and today had some Poppycock**, & that's about it--so the sugar's making me loopy, too, and the possibility of sleep is right up there with the possibility of a golden Wonka-Ticket at this point. So things might be quiet, for a while. I gotta regroup. And in the meantime I'm getting dumber every day. clm.

*You must remember that my folks are divorced but both remarried when I was preliterate so I have always had two sets--Team H, the parents with whom I share Nightmonkey and the Tape Wizard--and Team Dad, with whom I share my other brother (who sort of doesn't have a nickname, really, but who is super cute and funny for a basketball-jock type). Just to clarify.

**Have you had this? Poppycock is generally rad. It's prefab bourgie caramel corn, but it has giant meaty glossy hunks of almonds and butter pecans clinging to the popcorn (unlike say the disappointment of Cracker Jacks, with its pathetic wizened two peanuts shivering in the bottom corner of the box), and generally Poppycock is THE SHIT so it is a real testament to my frazzledness that I can only eat like two pieces of it. Glargle.

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