All the parts are the same

07Apr08

I cleaned all day today. It was kind of a painful experience but in the end my room is like…clean. You can see the fucking floor!

I feel violent today. Everything I did was so harsh, I felt like my hands were scissors and tongue and teeth were knives. I took red photos and thought about red things. Kind of a red day. I don’t know if I’ve ever said this out loud (or typed it?), but I hate sundays. I hate the way sunday feels. It’s all yellow and gray and it feels like 5-o-clock in the afternoon the whole fucking day. I just absolutely despise sundays.

Tomorrow I have an interview at American Apparel, which I’m nervous/excited for. Dana was kind enough to take me to it since no one else could, and we’re going to have girly fun and be happy recently single college-droputs together.

I wish I could find some way to feel happy. I start to feel like I’m evening out and then these bubbles of sadness just pop up out of fucking nowhere.

Time for more Daniel Johnston.

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