Your lips taste of poison

I love PJ Harvey. I'm listening to her like a mad woman. Pretending to outline and really wanting to write a story. I held my cat so close last night and all the way til morning, and we had this beautiful sleep together. (Real sleep!) He put his paw on my shoulder like a hug, and we slept face to face while he purred and I stroked his face. He's such a good cat. My mom says she's glad I like him, because no one else does. She's wrong. She's the only one who doesn't like him, actually. My brothers like him a lot. And my step dad talks to him like he's a friend. She doesn't like him becuase he has an anatomical problem, and he pees in little puddles on the floor. That's not his fault. I always feel really sad cleaning up after him, wondering how much pain he's in. My poor kitty. I had a dream where I was walking with him in a papous (sp?) held in front of me.

PJ Harvey, you're amazing. Run away with me, PJ Harvey.

Today I should work on my Paradise Lost paper. It's going to be harder than my 696 paper, I think. Maybe not. I have to do both of them. I'm supposed to go to an Amanda Palmer concert on Tuesday night, and it's just not going to happen. Amanda Palmer! I'd run away with you too!

This is my third day without antidepressants. I ran out, and I haven't been able to go turn in my new perscription. So. Not only am I going to be crying like a maniac all weekend, but I'm most likely going to be sick, because going off of antidepressants cold turkey gives you flu symptoms. I am so irresponsible. I'll try to get them today. I don't have a car right now... but when Omar gets here. I don't have caffeine either. So I'm slumped. Like those kids in the anti-pot commercials. Blech. It's noon, and my feet are asleep, and I am cold and unmotivated. Well, motivated by fear, I guess.

Potluck at Jason's tonight. Woot. I shouldn't go. But I will.