#55

Fuck man, I left this too late. I don't wanna write about friendship right now. I mean, I do, but I'm so tired and sleepy. My little brother drove back into town to vote and we went out and I had the largest dinner I have had in some time. Then we and my dad talked about various subjects. It was great, and the time flew.

Today I scraped the freaking bejarbles out of the back of my thumb, took a big chunk out right below the nail and a bigger, deeper chunk right about at the knuckle. It didn't hurt at the moment, when I was going like a whirlwind in the dishpit at work, so I thought to ignore it, but it wouldn't quit bleeding and after filling two disposable rubber gloves with blood, it sure did fucking hurt. It hurts now. They are gross and ugly. I wonder how they will scar. My hands don't show scar very much; all my knuckle scars, for example, fade together into a sort of shadow. You have to know where to look to find any individual scar, but you can pick out dozens if you try. Burns, slices, bites, stings, scrapes, punctures, and blunt traumas. Life is a party.

Okay gotta go to bed some bullshit about friendship tomorrow I am proud of my scars like any good boy should be even though they show that I am something of a dimwit ok peace


--JL