there is no choice, we're going to have to take the chainsaw to the one cypress tree. it is so unruly. hand clippers just won't do it. we'll have to just run the saw up the sides of the tree and trim it down. i mentioned to doc that i can't get good sunset pictures anymore because of the cypress trees. and the palms in the corner of the walkway. we were nice when we trimmed them down before, but they took over again and it's time to be harsh. take them down to 6 or so fronds just sticking straight up.
i don't know what we're going to do with Tony. he is completely out of hand. He needs about two hours of chainsaw and pruner attention. He's rubbing against the house in the wind, which creeps me out. So it's time to trim him, too.
much later . . .
Kelli and I were talking about my scars last night. My arms, especially the inside wrists, are covered with long, garish scars from general mutilation and suicide attempts. i forget they're there. but people see them as soon as they see me and they judge me and i have no chance after that. i'm labeled crazy and that's it for their taste. they just get worse with age. the least little color i get on my skin from the sun, the scars turn bright white. so i have to keep the sun off of them.
it made me want to go out and buy long sleeve tshirts. but who am i kidding, i hate long sleeves and will just pull them up. it's not as bad if i'm wearing a tshirt. if i'm wearing a tank top, the mutilation on the upper arms shows and that is just a neon sign.
no wonder they avoid me in the psychiatric hospital.