The grey horizon says, "Today just isn't the day".

The very last paper bag that I grabbed before leaving work tonight
was the paper bag that killed my dear finger
Rest in peace, dear finger. It was so nice knowing you for almost 22 years.
My finger isn't gone, really.
I am just mourning the loss of a finger not feeling good at the moment.

One of the best realizations that I've had in a while:
I can cook. I can cook a damn good meal for probably like 10 people if I wanted to.

I was hoping to throw a dorky themed party. Not one of those drunken boozer keggers that everyone loves to waste away in. I'm not really in the mood to subject myself to bad decisions like one night stands and smoking pot. It just isn't in my cards, I don't think.
So I had a thought. A party idea that was given to me by one of those bourgie mothers who love to escape into my grocery store for about two hours because they think that they doing some right in this world by shopping gourmet/organic/expensive/whatever but mostly it is a vice. They just need some breathing space away from those children. There is the exception of the single woman whose husband does not exist or works long hours at some office in downtown Chicago. They carry the same demeanor of sheer loneliness. But anyway, I'm pretty good with mingling upon mothers, so I always like to drop in with recipe ideas. I told her that I was inspired to make a Pear and Gorgonzola pizza, and she told me that she used to love making pizzas with her 'girlfriends' during pizza making parties. Well girlfriends, where you at?

I wish I could sleep.


The tree sways back and
the twigs have poked my eyes out
Bloody vacancy