i started reading 1984 the other night. its horribly written. i don't like it. but i'm gonna keep reading it, even though i know how it ends, because there is nothing else to read in this house unless i want to read shit like The Art of Dying, which i do not. and going to the library would be futile because the few specific books i want to read they don't have, or once did but they were stolen and the library never bothered to replace them because they were too busy spending all their money on fucking computers. its barely even a library anymore, its more like Email for the Homeless Central. not somewhere i want to spend a lot of time at.
i finished the Day Spaghetti Walked last night, its ok. just one page. the spaghetti falls in love with the jar of marinara sauce, then the door opens, someone takes out the sketti and the sauce and throws em both in a big pot, and the sketti is happy cuz it gets to be with the sauce.
i don't feel like writing anymore and someone random has messaged me and i want to know who they are. if you're not busy tonight, see Lewis Black at the State Theater at 8 pm!!