Marc

Jesus. 'Bout fucking time I got that shit on the top to look right. I searched through my shoeboxes full of pictures today and finally was able to scrounge up a couple of snapshots of Zook, hanging with the boys, when he used to live here. We heard he was in town this weekend. Hmm.

So, there it is. Doesn't it look nice? Much more so than yesterday's horrible attempt.

As for me, I'm just sitting back at the apartment. I went to the bar tonight, and I wasn't feeling it ... at all. I've been feeling like a complete jackass lately. I don't have much schoolwork. I don't have a job. I don't have too many hobbies. I've just been kind of here, you know? And it sucks big time. At least my stupid finger's starting to feel better. It's ahout time.

I just feel like I haven't had much to say. At least nothing that's all that important. What's to talk about? How much sleep I got last night? How terrible my room looks right now? How it's not warm out yet? Whatev. I wish I could help you help me, but it's a lost cause. I should just crawl into bed, and not talk to anyone for a week. Maybe then I'll feel better. Christ. This post blows. Sorry.