Mean Monday: Fuck Everybody, I Hated This Book
Hi. I am in a really bad mood although I was in a worse one a few hours ago but I just paid a woman to make me lift weights for an hour and feel maybe a bit better? Hm. Nah. I came home from working out and spent 30 minutes or so cleaning up cat urine. My house still stinks to high hell. I hate my old cats. I am going to have them put to sleep. I hate them. They pee everywhere. Also, when I was working out? I smelled cat pee. I took my clothes out of a laundry basket full of clean clothes and so what that means is one of them got in the laundry basket and peed on my clean fucking clothes. Hi, lady who worked me out! I smell like cat piss! Be my friend! I was hungover when I got to the gym- hi, scotch and a pack of cigarettes, I hate myself more than I hate everybody else- but now I am not so hungover. One of my cats slept on my head though last night, so I am asthmatic today because of that. Fuck everything. It’s raining like crazy.
Also, a long time ago when you all were in toughskins and pretending to be in a Star Wars movie, I bought this book called The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov. I bought it cause I had just read Lolita which I liked very much and then I read, oh neato!, they have just published a book of stories by Nabokov! I love stories! (Just looked at this hardover book here, first edition: it was 1995). I then commenced reading them. I then got all angry because I thought they SUCKED. I then stopped reading them. And yet, here it is, in my house all these years later. I am going to put it in my laundry basket and let my cats pee on it. And you know what? I really should try to read them again. But I won’t. Most likely. Because in 1995 I was dumb because I was young so maybe they are good and I was wrong? Fuck that. Who cares. Bye.
Tags: vladimir nabokov