April 18, 2002
Rock the Plasma
Damn long distance phone charges. Insensitive bastards.
Did you know it costs four dollars and eighty cents to dial my house from Argosy Casino, a scant fifteen minutes away? I distinctly recall paying, like, eight-five cents to call Oklahoma my freshman year.
Oklahoma must be a generous state.
The wind comes sweeping there. Down the plain.
I'm still listening to Otis Redding. Just the one song, though. I was going to rent Pretty in Pink at the library but they don't open until noon, and by then Mom is gone and I can't very well walk. Well, I could, but why would I want to do that?
See? I need the Chevelle. I need to drive. It's sad that it has taken me this long to get some conviction about it, isn't it?
Work was less than riveting, as per usual. I was sent home an hour or so early, due to slow business, so I was actually home when the last scraps of daylight were flickering in the sky. I had a sandwich. I watched the first few minutes of Greg the Bunny. I called Kels.
Ah, the mundane round of Jill's life...
Brandon said one word to me today, prompted by our Boss who was harassing us. Afterwords, Boss babbled about how he thought Brandon must have a crush on me.
Yeah. Right.
And Cristi, one of the nice servers, told me that I should go out with Travis, the busboy. She said he's shy, but she told him he should ask me out 'cause she thinks we would be cute.
Hell, anybody can ask me out if they have the balls for it. In my lifetime that has only been one person, so I'm more on the market than a hooker, if you know what I mean.
Except without the sex and the fishnets. My legs are far too pale for sex and fishnets.
I realized today that Brandon kind of looks like Mr. Knightley. He has the eyes, and the smile. You would have been priveleged enough to see gorgeous Jeremy Northam plastered on my page were the layout I had planned for Emma not become horribly complicated.
So you will know what you are missing...
All that beauty could've been my page. Horrendous sighs escape my throat.
Do I even believe in love anymore? In my heart, I hope, but my mind does naught but doubt.
We both weep for the possibility that it may not, and that, even if it did, it would pass us by.
astera at 12:07 a.m.