by wednesday i start to run out of steam. steamless. seamless. seamstress. my grandma hartman was a seamstress after they sold the farm and moved to town. grandpa was a machine mechanic in a bread factory. my grandparents worked their asses off--farms and factories and dress shops--, and i bet they never complained about it. and then my parents--in schools and offices. and now, me here, i just flit around and enjoy the juicy fruits of their labors. (sometimes progress looks like regress depending on your tilt.)
i need to pack my gym bag before it gets too late. woe is me.
i had another psychotic dream last night. i was having my back surgically reshaped. they could only do half at a time. they did one half, and it hurt like hell, and i suddenly realized it was a mistake. but i couldn't just leave my back hacked in half. i was devastated at my decision to do it in the first place. full of such overwhelming regret.
the moral of that story is leave your backs alone.
that's all.
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