From Pathetic Life #7
Saturday, December 31, 1994
Had another of those bizarre dreams that can’t possibly make sense if you tell it, so I won’t, but it woke me widely at two in the morning. Then I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I spent a few hours editing out some of the dullest bits from this month’s entries.
And you thought what’s left is boring? Hah!
Snored for a while, and after a second awakening the entire day was spent reading zines, looking out the window, and occasionally farting, so it certainly was a busy day. Nothing much to say about it, though. No amusing anecdotes about reading zines. My ass-vapors are delightful, should be bottled and sold as French parfum, but that’s not the makings of an interesting day for the diary.
Along about dusk I got dressed, walked a few blocks one direction to get the mail, and a few blocks the other direction to the O’Farrell Cafe for a cheese omelet. It was cheesy and eggy, hot and good.
After the omelet I came home, started prepping and printing the November issue of this zine, dripped some prune juice into the roach’s jar, and tossed the old calendar and pinned up a new one for 1995.
And that was my New Year’s Eve. It’s another holiday that’s not for me, as I’m neither a boozer nor a carouser. I went to bed well before midnight, where I lay awake now, waiting for sleep and then tomorrow.
This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting
things, so parental guidance is advised.
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