Monday, September 7, 2009

Was That "We Are Your Friends"?

I saw an ex-girlfriend today. I never see my ex-girlfriends.
Today had already been pretty shitty by noon; Mom woke me up early to clean out the garage, which sucked really hard because this was the first comfortable sleep I'd had in a while. I abstained from this conscripted labor as much as possible and instead finished a Marvel adaption of Moby Dick (which was pretty decent) and then went about reading some other books on my ipod. I've been depressed for the past couple of days (with a few exceptions, like some strong pride with my 1:26 10 mile run which is awesome for a myriad of reasons I won't bore you with) so doing anything that didn't involve a couch or an ipod was pretty unappealing to me. Reluctantly I got in the truck and did my best to not get mad or get anyone mad in the 15 minute ride to it, but alas, mom snapped at me about running shoes.
At the dump, my mother proceeded to: cut off several people with the uHaul: be awkwardly friendly towards the incredibly depressed looking trash guy who never said a word and moved as little as possible: almost smash her mirror off on another truck, who honked at her as I yelled at her to stop: complained the someone had honked at her in order to prevent property damage: threw some wood in the metal pile: talked to people in f

Fuck it. I'm not finishing this post. I don't want to remember this day.
Nothing good will come of it.

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