in thirty minutes, i'll start my vacation, ten days off, motherfuckers. i win.

the basement of work is crazy hot, so i drink cold water and type case notes 'til my fingers get sore.

i feel disconnected and crushed out and sort of psyched in a sad sort of way.

regardless, i'm going to go see a sweet band play tonight, if i can get out of here on time.

and i'm going to make a rhubarb pie tomorrow.

and i'm going to make a real mix Tape.

and i'm going to learn to be more awesome in slow, slow ways.

also, finish reading all the books i have started. I'm fucking ridiculous. (who reads a russian novel, a book about the minds of ravens, a tom robbins book about the stock market, a strange science fiction novel called by american gods, a thomas hardy book that's an old, old romance that i don't really understand the attraction to....all at the same time?)

new tattoos make my skin happy.

you can't catch me. i win every race.