Problematic

Sea teeth are frightening. The ocean is far more ferocious than we give it credit. Everything has sharp gnashing fangs. My sister used to be very into owls, and now it's otters...their teeth are not as frightening. I've been drunk-ish for the last four evenings. And tonight we are watching Blue Planet II, after finishing The Hookup Plan....which I desperately hope gets a second season, because I so need the fabricated romance in my life. I've finished 4 paintings. I have 4 left. I have finished one bottle of wine tonight, but I started it yesterday, so that's not quite correct. I finished two bottles the night before. And I am not sure how I drank before that. It's cocktail season. I can't bear to be cuffed by anything less than a warm buzz. I broke a glass container and I have kept the shards because in the dead of night I lay awake and dream of death. Crabs are freaks. I just read through a bit of a notebook I didn't realize I had been journaling...

I am injured. It is not a physical injury, but a spiritual one. I could never be more hurt than to discover that my friends have been very poor ones, as I have been obsessed with my ex for years and not once did anyone think to hire a hot French escort for me. Not once!! I have a sister as well. I am aggrieved! Truly, I am alone in the world. Out on the streets trying to arrange my own dick appointments like a Dickensian orphan. "Please sir, can I have some more?" I have started watching The Hook-Up Plan. This is how I became aware of yet another short-coming of my social safety net. I suppose I should give them a bit of a break. It's probably marginally more difficult to find a French sex-worker here. Especially one that looks like a tall ethnically ambiguous Tom Hardy. I started watching the show because I decided I should start watching more foreign language things in order to practice listening. And I started with a French show rather than a Spanish show because I...

I am starting my internship on Tuesday, so I am compelled to do as I always do, and cram for the test of life. Estoy empezando mi pasantia el martes. Asi, que estoy obligado a hacer lo que siempre hago. Google doesn't know the word for "cram." Google no sabe la palabra para "cram." I am trying to speak to the kitten in Spanish, because she's the only one I regularly talk to... Estoy tratando de hablar con la gatita en espanol porque ella es la unica con la que hablo regularmente. So I learned the things I normally say to her: Asi que apredi las cosas que normalmente le digo a ella "Who's a kitten?!" "Quien es una gatito?!" "Shut up" - which I technically already knew because of my sad sad childhood "Callate" - lo que tecnicamente ya sabia por mi triste infancia and y "No one will ever love you" -  which I say because I am a broken person and I am projecting "Nadie te ama...

My mother has her final procedure today. Her final "surgery." She'll still need to have her fake nipple colored in. That's done in her plastic surgeon's office. I'm guessing it will be my mother's first tattoo. Not because I don't know if my mother has any other tattoos. Au contraire- I have now seen my mother in all her glory about 3 or 4 times, so unless she has some small tattoo between her toes or in the inside of her mouth, I know it would be her first tattoo. I just don't know if what they're going to do to color her nipple will be considered a tattoo. I should look it up, I guess. Maybe it's lasers. Everything is lasers these days. It's easy to understand all those drama plot-lines about hospitals becoming triggers when you've been in one as a repeat guest. There's a distinct energy to a hospital or a clinic. I imagine if it were common for people to die of complications in the middle of a Lowe's hardware store trau...