"who the fuck is this?! get the fuck out of here!!" people are astoundingly friendly sometimes. at work the hot one always tells me almost everyday: "ex-girlfriends are nothing but trouble, tom," as i am putting more fluxotine, and seratine and pythyroxine on the shelf or whatever they are and however they're spelled. heeey there. hello. prescription to pick up, or drop off? new insurance? yes, it is a little humid out. cloudy? yes, but we sure do need the rain. sign there, please. yep, you have a nice day too. do you want a bag? uh, it's $5.10, do you want to charge it then? yeah, you probably haven't seen me, i'm sort of new. only been working here for a couple of months. charge it then? no, sorry, i'm just a delivery guy, i don't know those answers, sorry. yes, it is quite cloudy outside, isn't it? want a bag? is the mail done? sherri, can you look up a margaret mcjohnson for me? no, the doctor has not called back on the prescription, jane--sorry there's nothing i can do about it. but yes, it is a little humid outside, huh? can you sign there, please? can i get your phone number? okay.. just scan your card right through there, yes, there, that's right. is this bag alright, or do you want a bigger one? umm, sorry, this isn't showing up on your account. hello, this is tom, do you need to be transferred to a pharmacist? it's $76.37, please. sorry i don't really carry change. but yes, it is very humid out today. k, can you just sign this, and then sign that receipt? yes, i am new, well sort of. yes, i am in college. $34.97. no, i have no idea what i want to major in. just playing it by ear. hey, how's it going? yes, it is humid outside, isn't it? dropping off a prescription? would you like to wait for that, then? okay, just a second. i'll transfer you to a pharmacist. pharmacist, line 2. can i take my 15? why yes, it is humid outside today, and cloudy too, and very hot. but yes, the car does have air conditioning, so that's nice. yep, have a nice day. oh no, the the days are leaving, june and now july, too. i'm still the swimmer too. sleeping in, getting up late, and swimming. i saw you too. i like you too. i never see you either. i remember the shirt i was wearing, and i remember the place we were standing, and i remember the grade, but i don't remember her. but whoever she was, she was right. and already even in just second grade. what a gift of foresight you have if i knew you and if i saw you today i would tell you. shit. sorry. i didn't mean to, but yeah, it just felt like one of the only right things to do, you know? i believe the statistic was 5% of americans. those that don't find anything, no, anyone, to lay in dark rooms on fluffy beds with sleeping. it's not just something that you can change just like that. it's a gradual way there and i wouldn't doubt that it's a gradual way back, too. that makes sense enough, i'm sure. well, at least if i'm vague enough then maybe i can even trick myself. seriously, this may have been one of the worst summers ever. i guess it's not quite over yet. but almost every bit of it has been completely my fault. i think i may have to go back through and delete all my entries again. for a few days that always makes it seem to me like i'm starting over, that somehow by deleting all these musings that i then transform myself into something else. of course, though, eventually i'm sure i'll just get bored again and end up with basically all the same entries yet again, just reworded a little bit differently. fuck everyone who has lots of good experience and fuck everyone who is really happy. and fuck you too, katie. fuck you the most, in fact. fuck you for being exactly the way you are. fuck all the black door-to-door cleaning salesmen, and fuck all the old people with oxygen tanks who continue to live for some unknown goddamn reason. fuck you too, steve, you condescending up and down fuck, go back to winnipeg. fuck everyone else who won't tell me what they really think and feel, and fuck everyone who says things about me to their friends when i'm not there. and, you know, of course, fuck me. your apartment smells like shit, you paralyzed stupid fuck. i don't care if you're in a wheelchair. hire a fucking cleaner. it is not pleasant bringing you prescriptions every week. speaking of pleasantries, this entry comes to mind. i've never been more eloquent. oh, it's not about the specifics anyway anymore these days, they're far too fucked up. i think it's just.. ah never mind. no, it's cool. believe what you want, you know? i'm just having a very, very glum day. no better way than to vent than by spreading some misguided anger on here.