jukeboxdiver

Instead of actually update, I will provide you a selection from a Facebook chat I was engaged in some time around 11:34 am yesterday morning.

After waking up for the fifth day in a row to see my father sitting quietly at the kitchen table doing a crossword (I know, it sounds tame, but sometimes the quietest irritants are the most obnoxious), I felt an almost uncontrollable rage creeping up the back of my neck. This was a special type of rage though, a rage crossbred with a rather unpredictable species of crazy. Cabin fever had officially hit. I’d been spending every day sitting on that damn plaid couch watching Bhalu. There’s absolutely no privacy there, as both my parents work at home and my brother doesn’t leave the house until 4 pm.  Let me tell you, actually LIVING in your living room is really not living at all. So I moved an entire 6 foot tall bookcase and its contents out of my room, dragged a gigantic dog crate up three flights of stairs, and set up a new place for Bhalu and I to hang out. I feel so, so much better now. My room is a mess, but at least its a lonely mess. It makes things less complicated that way.

At any rate, this little monologue occurred during my breaking point. I thought about cleaning it up to make it more understandable, but I decided that the typos very accurately convey a certain desperation I was experiencing at that very moment.

Maureen

oh my god living at home

i could kll myself

you know when youre watchin TV and someone comes and sits uncomfortably close to you

and youre like, ok, cool and youre trying to be nice about it

but you KNOW they dont liekt he show yuore watching

and youre getting fucking pissed as hell and you knwo tis irrationtal

and theyre eating mvoie thaeter butter pocorn at 11 am

and theyre smacking their lips

and smell fainltly of BO and fake butter

and for jsut a second you can understand why people kill people sometimes?

—

BLARGH!

M