I'm still sitting in the kitchen when the mother calls out from upstairs; "Oh shit. I just erased that message Chaara. Sorry." Oh sure. Sorry. "Oops. I accidentally erased that message. My opinion of your father had no influence on that little slip-up whatsoever. I swear." Right.
"You're determined to hold a grudge aren't you?"
"You've got a guilty conscience."
"I do not! If you had heard the message, Chaara, you would have felt differently... "
"Don't give me this Mother/Father feud shit... "
"Okay, I know, sorry."
The message wuz something about getting together for lunch. That would be interesting. No. That would be hell. Since the father is a detective he is incapable of conversation if it is not interrogation. His questions don't have question marks at the end. His questions are statements. His questions are inquisitions. Even "how are you?" sounds threatening and ominous. He has been Mr. Big Bad Cop Man for longer than he has been my father. Talking with him is like being in court, being on trial.
"He's a dangerous bigot."
-Radiohead
And why, after years of not speaking, would he call? What does he want? I have to wonder. I could speculate that he may have stumbled across my website and I'm sure I've bitched about him there(here) before, perhaps he's got more shit he wants to blame me for, more situations he wants to turn around, more guilt he doesn't like the burden of and wants to try to transfer onto me. Whatever it is it won't be fun. That is if I even choose to bother. Jesus Fucking Christ I hate dealing with these torturous family things.
You know, until today I've been too busy to realize I have nothing to do. Until today I wuz doing things so I didn't even notice that I ...have nothing to do. I think wandering the city distributing resumes is a mighty good distraction from unemployment. Sitting at home and growing increasingly annoyed with your mother is not a good distraction at all.
Speaking of the Mother, food supply is dwindling here again. I don't drive, so I can't get my own fucking groceries. I love my mom the most when she puts food in this house. Just a simple basic human scenario; mother feeds offspring. I hate her like you would not believe when she doesn't have food in the house. I hate her beyond words. But when there is food, there is love. When she brings home food I think she is the best human being in the world. How primal. I don't choose it. must get out must get out must
I don't like what the few people on icq have to say to me right now. Don't waste my time.
"yo"
"Yeah?"
"sup"
"Don't 'sup' me. Cut to the chase pal."
"kay... yo. Uh... I gotta go."
Bleah.
Nadya gave me delicious tea. Passion. Tazo. I will go make myself some now...
"I know I'm nothing. I know there's nothing I can say to change... I'll never be what you need. My love was so beautiful... I'm good enough but I don't care. The sun is out but I'm not there. I'm good enough, somewhere... "
-S.P.