my soul on a sad sad thurday dawn

I'm having a rotten day. I look rotten and I feel rotten. Earlier today, I thought of the ambiguities of love as I wait for the train at 5:30 in the morning. I thought about Jackson Pollock and how his wife practically sacrificed her life for him and his art. I realized that I could never love someone as deeply as that. I made a mental note that I should warn the boyfriend about it, that if he ever plans to self-destruct he might as well tell me now so I could pack my bags and leave. This does not mean, however, that I don't love him. I do but I already have problems of my own, thank you very much.

Anyway why on earth am I writing about these things? I don't know. I told you I was having a weird week. I mean, all I wanted to write about was how I was thinking about all these stupid things while Pizzicato Five was blaring into my ears at five thirty in the morning. I just wanted to write about the incongruity of it all and how I shouldn't be bothered by it since my life lately does not make any sense too.

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