Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Friday, September 26, 2003


I'm back at a desk. My field subcontracting was too damn slow so I'm working five times as much for slightly more money, at the same company, but once things pick up I'll be far more knowledgeable and prepared to take on field work. For now it's tech support.

After living with my folks for the past six months, I've watched my father's alcoholism degenerate into a sleep all day drink all night pattern gilded with deep depression and finally defeat. His van got repoed and and we're evicted in a couple weeks. I've landed a room just outside of Chicago and everyone else is making arrangements as well. Mother cries a lot. I didn't want to be living with them this long, so the kick in the ass is welcome. My temporary role as family uniter and leader made my head hurt anyways. At least I kept everybody civil. They will still speak with each other after this, and I consider that to be a moral victory.

That's all information. I intend to write more colorful anecdotes and vile imagery to entertain myself soon. I miss making myself giggle with this journal.
5:29 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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