spikenheimer

happy birthday, butt slut.

there is still some wax, i'm sure, but i got most of it off.

i have spent a lot of time in the last year thinking about the state a person died in. or animal, for that matter, as your cat has been added to that list. i think of how an ex's father died alone in a garage, intentionally poisoning himself with carbon monoxide. or my grandmother, drugged out of her gourd on morphine so she could go peacefully into that good night. or, morning as it were... death is never very pretty, and you were very good to that cat.

and it's a shitty thing, but it's true. no matter how many things or people surround us, we always die alone. we own our own death--nothing changes what it is or how it goes. death is death, sweetie.

Thanks doll! much appreciated. But doll is prolly not a word you care to be described by huh? So how about something ultra masculine? I will call you Butch! WHOOOPIE! I am a nerd. Whats going on in your life?