Dear Diary reading peoples

It was friday and thus very pleasant if annoyingly rainy. I had left school and was home sooner than I had expected given the evil that is rain. Upon coming home I was greeted by the scene that is a room in absolute disorder after a morning spent searching for something that will offer some protection against the wet stuff leaking from the sky.

Saturday was even less pleasant as I was forced to go to work. A task I did not mind in the long run as it resulted in monetary gains which after all are some sort of recompense for our unfortunate labor. The good thing about going to work is indulging in the surrounding restaurants at lunch. I had too many choices unfortunately and ended up going for a very subpar chili cheese dog that reminded me yet again why hot dogs should not, never, ever, taste like mint.

That evening I barely had enough energy to watch The Cup, a lovely very buddhist-y movie about a group of monks and their burning desire to watch the World Cup finale which leads to one of them making a very bad mistake which he feels guilty for. The issue resolves it self rather simplisticly can we say Deux Ex Machina? No, fine can we say cop out? It doesn't matter because obviously as with all buddhist things as of late the heart of this film was to explain the suffering of the poor, poor, poor Tibetans at the hands of that other evil empire, China. (The first evil empire being the US, duh!)

Sunday was by far the most pleasant of all the days since I spent it at home cloistered away like an insane cat lady or some such social deviancy that hides away in it's abode. I had too much day late sushi unfortunately and have not yet recouperated. On the plus side I did later leave my cave and head towards the asian market to purchase vast and ridiculous amounts of pastries. Particularly a very delicious light airy loaf of coffee flavored pastry roll. Think of a far more textured angel food cake, only maybe a tad more fluffy. Also purchased too many chestnuts (on special) which I proceeded to roast on a 'comal' (a tortilla warming thing my father bought a damn long time ago). They were sweet and perfect and very good. My last purchase was one of necessity as I picked up a couple of boxes of cheap bamboo chopsticks.

The pastries will be the death of me. Too delicious if such a thing is possible. Although I find they are best eaten in very thin slices of a quarter to half inch at most.

Today I found myself forced to go to the library to pick up my many holds. Ah, finally I can sink my teeth into the infamous Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. It is a rather thick book with quite some praise behind it, here's to hoping it's entertaining. I always picked up a couple of spanish books, Paz the complete works, and an odd little thing by Gabbo. The Marquez book was mainly as bribe to cajole my mother into returning the Borges short works book I bought last week. Last week I was most lucky to buy the Borges book, Ovid's works, and most deliciously Lupin III by Monkeypunch Japanese comic (aka Manga). The Ovid was for my sister who's studying classical works. The Borges was booknapped by a word-starved mother who's been on a book diet because of a heavy work load. The Lupin was thoroughly enjoyed, truly the charm of Sergio Aragones drawings, with the caustic spy poof wit of Johnny English only better. As an added extra lots of pretty girl pictures which while they do nothing for me in that manner, do entice as beautiful art.

Anyway, yesterday at the library I got some good loot. As far as comics all of it's rehash, an old Peach Girl manga, Ghostworld (which I've read before) and some Batman graphic novel. But the books were good, Maguire's Mirror Mirror which if it's half as good as Wicked or Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister will surely delight me for a long while. Also picked up a new copy of an old Dumas book. Nice loot, nice loot should keep me busy for a couple of weeks between classes.

As school begins but begins towards an end (graduation) I find that classes become less interesting and intriguingly far easier than perhaps they should be which leaves me with too much time on my hands which is when I usually turn to books.

Someone once said somewhere that they were soldiers so their children would be merchants so their grandchildren would be artists. I find that this is where I'm sort of stuck I'm going to be a mechant of sorts i.e. going into my chosen field for mainly economical reasons in the hopes that someday someone I know will be able to write and draw and dawdle their days away like we all should be able.

The most irritating thing in the world is when boys try so very hard in front of girls. When they fake the smartness, when they ponce and strut their false little lies glaring in the sharpness of disenchantment. My guess is girls have make up to falsify themselves for men, but men? All they have is their bluster and bombasm. Their cheap lies and crummy lines. Their loud constant chatter of imbecility made carnate. Attempts at making themselves sound much more they are.

The irritation is past. I held out, supreme to the last. Thank god because if the fucker didn't shut up I was going right over and telling her, no it's not cute when boys act stupid for us and telling him to either go jerk off or tell her what he wanted already.

Meh, The Loca tires of this nonsense I leave.

only to return later of course. fuck you, I'll keep writing until you all crawl into holes and die from the sheer misery of it.

pre/post