Hey, sorry about the 'go get fucked' thing. It was horrible and negative, but I was provoked, man. It gets tiring always having to do, feel and say the 'right thing,' particularly when no one else has to live within these parameters. So feel free to not 'go get fucked.' Not that you need my permission.

I spent today, my birthday, at an assisted living facility, having Mother's Day brunch with my mom, her husband, and his mom.
What can I tell you? Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean 1) you get to do what you want or 2) shit.
So the gifts I received: I made it to 37, and my friend Jason, dead these16 years, came to me in a dream for the first time. It was really beautiful to see him again. He knew I was sad and really lonely, and I don't feel those things now. I feel strangely calm. And fat, but whose fault is that? A good rule of thumb is, just because you feel sick is no reason to quit shoveling it in. It takes dedication to really make yourself primo uncomfortable. Which I have, as evidenced by the lemon pastry and the large piece of Dairy Queen cake in front of me, just five hours after consuming so many calories I could not breathe. It's just like smoking, and no lie: 'I feel like such shit I can't wait to do it again!'
We humans are pretty much of an oddball species.

So, today's lesson: keep your wants and needs out of it. They're being fulfilled behind your back, anyway.

Tomorrow I go back into the working world -yikes!- so wish me luck. I'm pretty anxious about the whole thing. In response to that, I'm going to take a bite of my cake and think of something else.

Drag queens, maybe.

Peace out.