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Elvis is sick. - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
Elvis is sick.
Elvis, my car, has issues. He doesn't even have simply-fixed, expensive issues that would involve just replacing a part or jumping him off and paying massive amounts of money to get him fixed. He's just plain moody, bi-polar: sometimes he wants to crank and is happy to go-go-go wherever I ask him, sometimes he'll play possum because he don't want to go anywhere. This would normally be alright, too; I'd take Elvis to visit the Elvis-doctor down at Southland Paint and Body (that I like much more than any dealership or scammer place that steals all of poor Ginger's money) and get Elvis some medicine or a new respirator or something. Except my lovely mother's credit card is in my wallet (my mother decided to help me out since I am currently a verypoor college student)...which is under the seat of Matt's truck, that is with Matt, in Hattiesburg, next to the house that Jack built, where Brady lives, far away from Ginger, who's living with Everraven, which is another house that Jack built, far away from any place that I can get a job...fifteen miles away in fact. Much too far for me to walk to work in the unforgiving Mississippi heat even though I walked at least 2 miles a day in Japan, sometimes even 8.

So here I am, jobless and carless. I can drive Elvis only every now and again. If he decides that he's agoraphobic when I've just pulled into a gas station somewhere, I'm screwed.

So, Matt, please call me. I want my wallet and digital camera back.

So, Maxine, sorry I was so groggy when you called. It dawned on me later when I woke up. Anyway, nice-ta-meet-ya; that's my sleepy, just-had-a-weird-dream voice.

Don't even get me started on the dreams either: it was a strange mixture of the Samurai X DVD that I only watched half of and my inescapable feeling of stranded helplessness, unable to get my school work done or get a job so I can eat, pay credit card bills and storage unit bills, and maybe, just maybe have some fun.

I'm sorry I'm bitching. I at least tried to have a sense of humor about it. Going to work on photoshop-doctoring the SOLAR pictures.

mood: thirsty thirsty
music: Mother Goose's Rock & Rhyme

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maxine From: maxine Date: June 19th, 2001 05:57 am (UTC) (link)
dont worry about it, if you two chickas get some time i should be up in oxford at about 3ish, today so if you wanna hang ill actually get to meet you in person :) yay ill call when i get up there :) and dont worry about the call thing its quite alrigt sorry i woke you :)
1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft