careful

I’m caught in indesicion land again. It’s not even indecision, it’s the lonely factor again. I want to leave the house to go spend time with James, but I don’t want to walk alone to the Skytrain. It’s difficult to leave and more difficult to not turn back. Sort of an artificial agoraphobia built of living at that damned house and being alone all the time. I haven’t been drinking enough blood lately, I don’t have the reserves of empathy I need to function properly when other people aren’t around.

went out for confectionary with adrian & jeff last night. jeff noted that when i took a bite of my tiramisu cheesecake i went ‘bing!‘ ‘suddenly awake and aware and functioning’

Perhaps I need to get something like that and keep a little of it at home to bolster myself when I need to leave the house.

I require this book

                           It’s a Victorian sex-ed manual. For children. Starring a monkey.

The Strangest Children’s Book of the 19th Century Teaches You the Facts of Life—Complete With Singing Vagina.

                          

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Everything Is Funnier With Monkeys. If J. Fred Muggs, Lancelot Link, or zoo-house fecal tossing have taught us anything, it is that every human endeavor is enriched by the addition of a screaming, leg-humping, ass-biting primate. Even, say, sex education. I beg your pardon? you might ask. Clearly you’re not acquainted with the strangest children’s book of the 19th century—Sammy Tubbs, the Boy Doctor, and Sponsie, the Troublesome Monkey (1874).