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Sunday, April 2, 2017

this way

my hands are shit. i type w the middle, ring finger and pinkie of my left hand now. index is toast. when the nerve shoots i can't capitalize so here we are, not typing much. thank you for your concern, lawless.

nothing else has changed. the cheeto in charge is still on full flaming asshole to everyone but the rich. there are no words, and i couldn't type them all anyway.

still have not gotten appts w a neurologist nor an ortho. i see the auxilliary dermo in nh on weds.

beest will be on the ear smear forever. she has regained weight and sleeps a lot. i worry. she has lumps. the vet will eval her on friday.

billy carries on, bought an epiphone, got the housed resided, is struggling with all the drugs and conditions he has going on. the idea to move here is floating round again.

i really am liking the solitude here.
we got a spring snow and the guy who shovels a path for his dog didn't bother this time. it's bright today. the sky's that blue you only see this time of year or in old paint by numbers.

happy spring, be well.

sit down, life, we gotta talk

life, we've known each other as long as i can remember. i expected by now you'd have grown up some and straightened this shit out, but frankly i'm disappointed.

yes, i know it's not all your fault. it's time passings', and genes', and a descending order of culprits' faults as well. but life, you're the eldest, and should know better.

seriously, if you keep going down this path, you'll live to regret it. get your shit together.