Missed the last bus blues.

You know, up until yesterday every day of this new year had simply been getting better than the last. I have been feeling better than i have in years. Today had enough bad news to bring it all to an affirmed end however. It is not that important in the grand scheme of things, but one of those missed opportunities that hangs heavy on you for your own lack of insight. Style, or pause.

I made my first glass pipe. It works too. Nothing pretty perhaps, but it has all the needed parts, shot gun, bowl, mouth piece. Got me stoned, what more could you demand?

I have been writing a fair bit at home, as there is little else to do. Advance Wars, Magma, Joanna, sitting under the bed writing about things i see and hear. It is getting to be of a size that i am starting to think it may be worth my while to port it over on a floppy disk, to archive if for nothing else. I hate losing my writing, for what ever reason, it is not as if i go back and read it over and over again. I hardly take the time to read it over before i post it the first time.

The anticipation is the best part. The part right before, because once you smoke it, it is gone and you will have to wait until it is time to smoke some more.

I read in an interview that the album Ys was written to chronicle a year in Joanna's life. She said she did not want to explain the album, but rather just let it stand on its own for us to figure out. this morning sitting in my towel i think i finally understand why she wrote the album. It snapped me in half, i will not try to hide it.

Anyways, i burnt my hand, but i really should get back to it. i will have to head home sooner.

Sean

Was written before i missed the last bus.

Is being written after i have missed the bus.

I went back and edited it. Only a little.

But then you know, i am not fooled. I realize that i messed up, and worse i was realizing i was messing up, i just kept trudging along like some child with OCD chewing on his door frame. Knowing what i was doing was wrong, but compelled none the less.

I do not care if you forgive me. You wanted some one who was not going to be superficial, some one to talk to. You wanted some one who was willing to meet you at a bus stop at midnight. You wanted some one who had their head outside of the laws involved with attraction. I do not care if you forgive me. i have made enough mistakes to keep things in perspective. I have always been good at keeping things in perspective. Knowing when i have it good. I do not care if you forgive me.

And say sorry for flirting with me before. I made another pipe tonight, with colour on the outside. It shattered just as i was putting the finishing touches on the shotgun. I knew blind rage for a split second. Normally this would not happen. I have been having trouble keep things in perspective these last three days.

I finally understand my favorite album! I get it! It made me cry! I do not think i have broken down and wept since Charles Schultz died. I was listening to the album, it was my least favorite of the five songs, and i just listened to what she was saying and it all became clear. Everything else she had been singing about had centered around this one thing i had been missing. It all makes sense, and it broke my heart. But I am not going to tell you. You have to listen for yourself.

Russel has said he will give Sean a ride home so he does not have to sleep on the couch in the gallery. I stopped working the first time because i was too tired. Then i went back. It is two in the morning, i am in no position to be staying up all night. Though it is funny that the one day i am almost forced to spend the night is the one night i have my volcano, my ds, my ipod, and a pomegranate. Things did not work out so sweet.

I wish now that we had gone dancing. I can dance.

The pipe, it was so close to being done. I will save what did not break until the future. In the future i will have the skills to pay the bills and perhaps will be able to salvage the pipe from an otherwise broken existence. I can see a sherlock or something of a similar nature in its future. Today i did some things that i had not yet been successful with. I made a bowl for a two litre bucket hooter. I was going to make some glass blades, but then the bitch hurt my feelings. I burnt my hand. The skin is already doing the, i am going to fall off, thing. At least it did not crack this time. I made some replacement buttons for my favorite jackets. I am thinking about doing some really fancy ones and replacing all the buttons. It is just tricky getting them thin enough.

Having tweezers makes life possible. If you ever decide to order lamp working supplies order some fucking tweezers. The ones at the super store are not good enough. Get at least five. And maybe an egg timer.

Our hell is a good life.

I am torn for the first time in ages. So long have my emotions sat on the fence, leaning only slightly in the chaotic winds whipping around me. Yet for the last three days it has been like i am menstruating or something. I am interested to see how this all pans out. When it finally pans out.

Our hell is a great life.

Sean

Why the sad face?
Life is beautiful.