music to write cover letters by

i wrote a disco song today

Hot hot dog

the sky will always bring glamour

shine on like a diamond

and go in to infinity

and burn on

whoot-whoot

and then there will be a bunch of disco dancing beats. that's basically it. 

some thoughts i've had today

i wondered about the life of the guy (i've always assumed it was a guy) who buys all the "dragon blood" incense at the wal-mart in dublin. 

when i watered the plants on the deck today i looked down at the droopy lamb's ear and thought, "here's the thirsty little motherfucker" and gave it the most water out of the three plants. then i felt bad for the other two plants.

i wish i had a cloaking device dome thing i could put over my house and yard so i wouldn't have to see/hear or communicate with my neighbors. this would also work as a fence so that's like killing two birds with one stone!

bitching and moaning (but not in a sexual way)

writing cover letters exhaust/overwhelm/suck all the life out of me. i've never been good at pretending to be an extremely awesome individual, and i've never been good at selling things.
i've been sitting here for over a half an hour staring at the last sentence written, "dear ms. montgomery," and then the two broken sentences i began to write to "express my interest in the open position," which frankly, i've always thought sounded a bit on the erotic side... thankfully admin. assistant work is anything but.
i have a lot of work to do around my house that i've been putting off for a while. i've been putting a lot of things off for over a month now.
my car has fucked me over more in the past few months than it ever has. it's almost as if it's aware of the fact that i have so little money and so much free time, so it breaks itself in small but major ways just to keep me at home. it's latest fuckfest is with the brake lights- they're on, and stay on until the battery dies. a little plastic dowel that goes through a part of the brake pedal snapped off. thanks, honda.
god dammit. off to do some laundry now!

it looks like i'm not doing anything for a little over a minute

i'm listening to the fen "dustwalker" album and my back hurts

I lay in my bed and listen to the forever drone of the fan. The faded and cobweb frosted black curtain waves back and forth letting in light intermittently. The dark room I lay in is comfortable in this light. My head feels fogged and heavy so that my thoughts are obscured. The house is a comfortable temperature for now and all conditions suggest sleep.

Outside the rain pours and leaks through my roof and saturates the ground. The rain seeps through the cracks in the layer of shingle where the tar is vulnerable, through the rafters and onto the darkroom table. The rainwater that was once clear is now tainted brown after filtering through several layers of decay. The darkroom trays catch the water and overflow on the tabletop and spill out on the floor. The musty scent of the indoor/outdoor carpet permeates the room. We keep the door to the darkroom shut to keep the smell out. We keep the door to the darkroom shut to keep out the light.