u s e y o u r h a n d s

WHY IS MY RIGHT HAND ALWAYS COLD??????

Yes, there has been depression lately. But I do believe that, like a misty fog, like a labored metaphor, it is lifting.

My fucking ass fell down our front stairs last Saturday. Now, I have quite a lovely scrape down my right leg and foot, and a dime-sized scratch on my left knee. And I did, in fact, get said scrapes from falling down the stairs as opposed to “falling down the stairs.”

I got a call last Friday that my mother had been taken to the hospital. That she had a head injury. That her teeth had been knocked out. That she had been hallucinating. That nobody knew what had happened.

And instead of being shocked, I felt my brain shrug overwhelmingly. Because sometimes people choose their lives. Because most of the time, you can’t change shit. And because this is just the way it is.

Last night I went to a fundraiser for a girl who had been mugged in Andersonville. And what shocked me was that she said that since she was a “big girl” (six feet or so) that she thought she could fight them off. And as they beat her head against a wall, she realized she was wrong. And I guess, so am I.

I’ll leave you with something funny: A businessman says “I need more profits!” So an eager young associate goes and rounds up Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha. And the businessman takes a look at these dudes and goes, “Profits not prophets!”

Yeah, I know it wasn’t funny. But have a martini or three. It’ll be funnier then.