unplanted

artistry and domesticity

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I promised myself I’d write today and so far, this is as much as I’ve gotten down.

I slept in til 1 today–just couldn’t make myself get out of bed. Now I’m sipping on an ultra strong Americano at a coffee shop, listening to some unfamiliar music, watching this Japanese guy reach up under his sweatshirt and scratch his chest.

I hit Central Market this afternoon, picked up a few essenital ingredients for the cooking fest I’ve looked forward to all week. Cyndi and Charlie are going in on groceries with me, so I’m hooking them up with some mu shu chicken, gyros meat and yakisoba. I found a deal on chicken, so I might whip up a tandori marinade, too. Then again, maybe I’ll just go back to bed.

There are a couple of lesbians outside, sorting through the construction dumpster in front of the coffee shop. Not that there’s anything wrong with that–being a lesbian or grabbing scraps of lumber from a dumpster.

My three day weekend is wasting away. I can feel the time slipping out my grasp.

My only saving grace lies in the eight dollar rabbit ears I invested in yesterday and the fact that I’ll be able to watch The Simpsons tonight.

Other than that, nothing feels good.

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Author: Kim Sharp

more later

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