love thy self.

"In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two."

My bad habits are resurfacing and I'm gaining a significant amount of weight. And in regards to both the former and the latter, I don't much care.

My mother had a miscarriage yesterday. She wasn't going to "have" it, but it's still a sad thought for some reason or another. We laughed about it today, though. We're always laughing about the sad things, or so it seems.

I'm reading the thesaurus.

I need money for ballet lessons. And perhaps, too, a leotard. Or better yet a unitard. My body would look so slammin' in a unitard.

Your name comes up more often than I feel comfortable noticing. But never from my mouth, I can assure you. I'll hear it in a crowded bar or in a quiet bookstore and it always leaves me with the same feeling. I usually smile, shake my head to myself and then look out of a nearby window, at a nearby street, eyes glazed over with a sense of "Oh well." The complete duration of this cyclical, almost daily process is approximately 33 seconds, give or take a few.
Copious, affluent, flush, fertile, abundant, opulent. Even your synonyms leave me distant.

The fate of my day must surly be foreshadowed by a bowl of pink milk and perhaps the sun which insisted on nudging me unwillingly awake.