the rubbermaid on my floor is called revelations. i think that means something.

as usual, i'm sitting-dreaming-thinking, of you (collectively). and it seems through these bizarre and dark times of mine, i'm receiving messages in just about everything i do. films, dreams, songs. always a random fragment of a half forgotten memory that i once enjoyed, that doesn't really matter at all. all that matters is that i miss a lot of things/people/feelings. 

but, you know what, i'm done with feeling like shit about myself, or the things that i do or have done. and i'm over listening to those letters that form that tired word—s-o-r-r-y—spill across my tongue as i apologize once again for the something-or-other that happened. to you. to us. 

so, this morning, i woke up with this song in my head—it was your song—your ridiculous alter-ego song that really is no good at all. but it was in my head. and i was forced to pause and recount the odd menstrual dream i had as well, and thought about what the hell it all meant. 

i think it meant it's time to move on with these hard times. move on move onmoveonn. i've got exciting things happening to me. big great things that get wrapped up in small, sneaky boxes with bright crunchy purple ribbons. 

yeah, i'm feeling good today. my hair is not weighted, i'm wearing a warm scarf, and i'm looking forward to talking about the ballard hens and their condos tonight. so random, nothing really matters, let's just get on with our lives. our lovelylovelylives.