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Friday, January 21, 2005

Heather is talking about love here, but it applies to other things to. So, for your consideration:

Look, you can still have a fucking sense of humor. You can still complain.
Jesus christ, fuckwhackers, it's not like I'd ever keep you from complaining.
Complaints? Them's salty snacks for the soul!

But if you're more aware of cruel tricks than you are of magic, honkies,
you're fucked. You have to believe that good things are waiting around the next
corner, no matter how many corners leave you empty-handed. Every time I buy a
lottery ticket, I'm pretty fucking sure I'm going to win. I look up the numbers
online the second they're available. Sometimes I even tune in for that moment
when the numbers are announced, so I can watch each number come down the shoot and cheer each one, so that I'll discover that I won millions at the very moment
that it happens. Keep in mind, I'm not an optimistic person, and I've probably
played the lottery about 10 times total. But mostly I buy a lottery ticket so I
can spend the day imagining that I'll win.

Yeah. This is not just true of love, but of music, and politics, and a whole lot of other things. But it's Friday afternoon, and anything I'd say would probably better be conveyed by going out and drinking with your friends, or curling up at home on the couch with a grilled cheese sandwich and a movie.