Rain like this just makes me want to dole out a big snifter of brandy and go to town on a paperback novel. I don't think I've ever really drank brandy, but it seems a fitting libation for shitty weather. Or good weather, for that matter. Not mediocre weather, though. That's what gin is for.
I rub my lips with my fingers. Constantly. I rub them between my fingers, back and forth, collecting little crescent rolls of dead skin. It’s not a pleasant sensation, nor a wholly painful one. I think of it more as the white noise of pain; I am oblivious to my little exfoliation ritual, or at least until I start bleeding. Which I just did. Ouch.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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