12.24.2006

I'm tired of walking around with my hand on my gun.

I'm eating a breakfast of cold fish and chips out of a styrafoam take-away container. Fries are not good after they've been refrigerated for twelve hours.

Yuletide domestic upheaval = me keeping quiet. There's nothing of much interest to report anyway.

I wouldn't mind spending tomorrow alone. As sort of a protest. Or something.

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