2004-11-27 - 4:12 a.m.
My dreams feel like they've been written by Charlie Kaufman on an off day, and for over a week I've been waking to Two Headed Boy stuck in my head. It's four twenty in the morning and I'm not smoking, I'm wearing a patch that's giving me more nicotine than I usually take in a whole day. The beer tastes better without the smoke, and I'd punch you in the face for a bottle of Glenfiddich right now. As long as you let me drink it before beating my ass.
This year I'm thankful for my fucked up past, and for my sure to be fucked up future, and my less than pleasant but otherwise uneventful present. I'm thankful that my ex is just that, and that she's come to some sort of conclusion that gives her peace, I'm thankful that my other ex left me before I could do anything to smother her spirit, and I'm thankful that I told my other ex right the fuck off, albeit way too late. I'm thankful for all the musicians who can and do say it more eloquently than I, I'm thankful for all the authors who told me before I knew, and told me again when I came back to their work. I'm thankful for beer and for single malt scotch and for weed and for camping trips which I couldn't really afford, and for friends and for people who may or may not consider themselves my friends. I'm thankful for family and their unchangability and for my headphones. This year I'm thankful for memories and for pain of all kinds. I'm thankful for those who've understood and thankful for those who still don't understand but never stop trying. I'm thankful for those who have managed to be patient with my lack of communication. I'm thankful for the vastness of everything.
This is not a list by priority, you should note by headphones, scotch, beer and weed being so low.
