August 1st, 2015

2013, cyd, new

My tweets

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2013, cyd, new

It was his least favorite thing to do.

Ok then. Tomorrow two posts are going up on Patreon. A rare open one with a new video. And a Patron post because it has been too long, and yes, I have been writing. In spite of the laptop's best efforts. It really does not like Libre Office. It must want MS Office back. But it's not getting it back. I hate MS Office. Libre Office is just the same, a couple of differences in design and buttons and pulleys, but nothing major that I have found. It just crashes the laptop if I open it with Photoshop or Media Player open, or having been open. I have to open it on a clean boot. So I have a shit tonne of notes composed on notepad now in my binder folders. There is no spell check on notepad! I am fucking lost.

Doc's still asleep. Going on hour 12 again. After he promised me dinner again. And I found he had been using my tweezers to pick cat hair out of the dried weed. Those are used on my FACE! And he cut up my prime, pick of the litter limb of buds as his own. For someone who is so "mine, mine, mine" about every fucking thing, he really has no respect for my shit. And I'm really pissed at him. It's been hours, and I am still pissed at him. Now, moreso because I didn't get the food I wanted and earned and deserved. And because another weekend passed where he did nothing but sleep and got nothing done. His dresser is still in the hall. Two of the drawers are still out in the fucking vestibule. His clothes are still all over the living room. The kitchen is trashed, but I'm never awake when he is to do the dishes. And he will nag me about that, don't doubt. This is insane.

I unplugged from Twitter and Facebook sometime last night. And had no desire at any time to go back today. I think I'm done with current events. I'm just going to lay low and listen to my music. I'll join Rolling Stone's mailing list to get news on new music. Won't even have to go to Twitter and FB. I think that's best for everyone. I'll pretty much run out of stuff to talk about . . . yesterday. So, Doc will be relieved. He hated listening to me talk. All you had to do was ask him. It was his least favorite thing to do.