Wow, it is hot. I know there’s almost nothing original left to say about this. I sat down on my couch tonight at
If I move to
My brain has swelled up and there’s a backlog of ideas waiting to get out. It’s total gridlock. There’s a half finished post of rage over the doctored Faith Hill Redbook cover released at Jezebel. There’s something about theme songs. Also, reflections on family and the true meaning of friendship after my big reunion trip. Some things too jammed up to articulate right now. It’s so bad, I’m cross posting this crap a couple places to take care of my perceived posting obligations.
Friends shouldn’t keep score. I can’t help it sometimes. I’m tired of doing things just because other people want me to do them. I think I have compartmentalized to a near-dangerous level. I wish/am frightened of the notion that there’s one person to be honest about everything with, no holding back, no sins of omission. Some of the things I haven’t told anybody are not for any special reason. Just habit, fear of lack of interest. Others are fear of judgment. That’s a biggie. I make this way bigger in my head than it is in life. But too many things that I’ve thought were no big deal were totally freaked over by other peeps. So the secrets continue and my jaw continues to deteriorate.


