i fucking hate everything

most of the time, i can just ignore the fact that i'm going to die alone.  it's not really a big deal most of the time.

but then sometimes i remember that, and wonder how everyone else found people and got married and all that shit.

so i looked up some 'how do you date when you're an adult', and one of the suggestions some asshole came up with was 'i asked 20 of my friends to set me up with a friend.'

who the fuck has 20 friends that they can ask that kind of thing?  is that a thing people do?  people have enough friends that they can choose "only 20" of them for something like this?




i probably need to go back to therapy or try new drugs or something, b/c i'm probably more suicidal than i'm willing to admit.

The Exhibition: Writing notes

the notes for this one.

i've been having a panic attack since 9am this morning.

i do not like that.

i wrote some of the new part last night.  i wanted to write more tonight, but i can't.

it is already longer than other parts, and i haven't even gotten to the main story point.  i continues to have very little sex or kinky stuff.

sorry.

hey.

um.

this is weird.

usually i get drunk, choose a point to fight over, do a big blog post about how like, squirrels are fucking people now.

and then wake up sober and make it all go away because that's pretty much nonsense.

and we don't even fucking have squirrels here.  are they really just like super fluffy tail cats?

so today i got all drunk like usual.

as-you-do.

and then forgot the point i was going to fight about.

like.  no clue.  squirrels are cute though.  fluffy tails and all that.

i have the beatles playing, so maybe that was the thing?  not as good as mr. david bowie?  they're pretty great, though, so this is a weak point.

so hey.  sammy here.  drunk up as i do.

without a point.

let's look at the news?

ok.  that's bad, that's good, that's also bad, that's cool, that's just kind of fucking horrible.

80 fucking percent.

christ.

"Laws in many states allow the police to arrest girls as young as 13 on prostitution charges, even when they are victims of sex trafficking."  omg.


dear prosecutors (i guess?),

what the absolute fuck?  "oh, congrats on getting raped a bunch!  your reward is going to jail!  you slut!"

diaf,
love,
sammy!


so, you know, if you're confused about how much i'm kind of going with the gay side of bi, read that last bit, and tell me how you feel.  seriously.  i was going to talk about the animal thing i saw today, but this is so much more fucking depressing, it makes a rhino potentially dying of gross infections due to humans ripping off a shitty horn seem like someone dropped a popsicle.


seriously.  i've read stories about cats playing with something for a bit, then killing it and eating it.  why is that so fucking less horrifying than what people do in like a day-to-day thing?

here comes the sun?

fuck you, the 60's.

good job fucking everything up in your adult-hood.  thanks for making me and my cohort so fucked up.


i can only forgive you so much for the chords used in "because".

and now you know how to turn me on.


ok.  time to drink enough that i don't care to update this post anymore.  just.

just think about things.  think about how much you might have helped, and didn't.

i'm doing the same, so don't get all upset.  i could have murdered old people, but instead i voted for the democrats.

TOTES KIDDING!

except the democrat thing.  i mean, i don't want to murder people in their sleep.

like the republicans.

#socialism_forever

omg i am dying

there won't be any stories up in the near future.  it is fucking a billion degrees, and doing anything more than "sweating to death" is too much effort.  you said the trades would be back last week, kanoe.  there were no trades.  today you're like, "whoops!  honolulu didn't have a record, but the other islands did!"  make the sky suck less, kanoe.

i'm also thinking (once it cools down and i can catch up some) that i should start making story "traps."  the idea is that once i have the outline finished, i schedule that as a blog post for a year in the future.  then, if i slack off and don't write the story in that year, the outline just goes up and i admit that i'm bad at this.  i think that provides a bit more incentive to actually sit my butt down and write some.

which i would have today during the hours of nothing to do that i spent dying from the heat.  i'm going to blame the heat for why this morning's dream stories were all horror when i intentionally went back to snooze expecting sexy-fun dreams.

and i was dumb on friday night and logged in to a dating site i haven't used in years, and immediately got a message that i've been ignoring.  i should really have a pre-written "i'm sorry that i'm terrible at being a human being" note to send when that happens.