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fucken computer, lost my entry. On a related note, though I been thinking this the past couple weeks, there has to be a god, statistically speaking this much bullshit cannot possibly happen to me randomly, there are like 8 billion mother fuckers out there that this shit can hit, I have had so much more than my share and somebody is in control of it all. god's got it out for me, I'm "randomly selected" just like at the airport.... Any fucken way I was talking about my day. Three hours of sleep and Prett calls to say dad's on his way... we got Wendy's smoked a bowl and he was stuffing twenties in my hand. I turned down a beer (like every other fucken time Ive seen him) and he said "What's wrong with you?" like sincerely he couldn't grasp it, looking at me like I had two heads. Spent the afternoon getting Britt's bellybutton pierced. All the grandchildren went together. Then to the hospital cuz gramma took a spill and got a goose egg on her head, was released. After gramma got out of the ER we went by the Legion to see if my dad and Mandy's dad were there. Uncle Rob was and he bought us three rounds, well I stopped at three cuz I hadnt eaten much and Im getting sick of the taste of jack daniels... Britt and I won $50 each on lotto stuff at the bar but we were playing with other people's money and instead of splitting it halves we got $10 each. 20% ain't bad I guess. My mom flipped the fuck out on me on the phone and we didnt get back here till 2:30am when Gary picked us up at aunt shirl's and dropped us off here. I made it through today only mentioning to Prett once that we should go see Lon. I made it through never the less and I have a good sense that if I can make it through tomorrow without seeing him then I can make it through the rest of my life without seeing him again. And I think the reason I want to see him is to know for sure if what they say about him is true... kinda like the same reason one kicks a horror movie monster to make sure it's REALLY dead or one who kicks a tire to make sure it's really flat. I also feel it would be a fitting punishment, like rubbing my nose in it, shaking a finger at myself "Bad Joey, BAD!!!" There are things I want to talk about but I'd rather not admit right now and I'm thinking of switching back to a paper diary, my gold membership is expired I think and I just like pen and paper more, the feel and smell is asthetically pleasing, as if I know anything of asthetics, I dont even know if that's the right word. I try to write like no one reads this, yet knowing it'll be very much public someday... and I try to keep it positive... for many reasons, first and least importantly I try to be a positive example, to show how I get through all the shit and if I can do it and grin then anybody can... but really I stay positive cuz you gotta remember that, take the best and leave the rest... if I concentrate on the horrible then that's what my life will be... also staying positive is like being in denial... though there are things that I cant be positive about, the drug use and Lon... I try to only remember the horrible when it comes to those subjects, cuz remembering the good in them is more horrible than remembering the bad. But generally I stay positive and I dont say stuff like I can't be alone for a minute and a half without crying in that silent, snotty way I cry and I dont even have to be alone for this to happen, I just have to be unoccupied and it's been like this ever since I can remember, either I'm high or I'm crying. (I'm out of weed right now btw, heh) I also dont say shit like I am really fucking scared to go back to Houston. Even though I can finally say I have a home, and my apartment is my home. I've felt hoem before... heroin felt like home, sleeping next to Lon felt like home... but I was never actually "at home", I dont know if I can clear it up anymore than that, I had it perfect before the comp crashed. I've got a home, that feels like a den for hybernating or a nest for growing... but it's my home. Things are still up in the air about Prett getting a ride with Aunt Sue and because of our previous track record and how perfect everything would work out, like it's alligned like planets, I know for a fact it wont happen, just like I lost the same job fucken twice and just how nothing goes right so this will not go either... but I'll still manage as I always have, cuz my success is just as improbably probable as all the bad fucken shit that happens to me... cuz statistically speaking, good shit is bound to happen to me... and maybe this will be the time that it does... it's got nothing to do with hope, everything to do with odds and chance... and keeping a straight poker face with the world (and my life and in my diary) even though I'm bluffing out my ass cuz I got dealt jack squat.

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

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