Maybe it is the 19th or the 20th October

I've changed my mind about all of this now that I am feeling a bit more thoughtful. Just a passing fancy. But it stands for that day.

I HATE Don and hope he rots in hell. So I guess I’d better pray for him since that is my process. “God, thank you for blessing Don in all ways he needs. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Did I write about the dog bite? That Lucy and Blaze…Lucy attacked Blaze for the fourth time. And in trying to separate them, Don got bitten on his hand by Blaze. There was blood dripped all over the floor and in the kitchen. I saw Blaze limp and thought he’d been bitten.

When the fight went on, Don went for the center. I went for Lucy and kicked her and tried to get hold of her chain collar, finally did and pulled her away.

So Don was bleeding everywhere from his hand. From now on all injuries in this household should occur to me because I am the one who needs to be in charge, because I am the only one who has brains enough to elevate my swollen, bitten hand.

(So now M calls. She needs $10,000 to save her house or she will be out in the street in three months. Good luck, M. But I did call Sharon to call M. Her calling card is already cashed out. So Sharon will call. And she can tell M about consequences which M has never learned.)

And I am moving out of this house and maybe S would like to join me at some exotic place (in dreams we could go to a spa) because she also has a husband who won’t let her take care of him, in bed lying in blood all day in the hospital where they damaged his groin putting in the IV or whatever to save his heart again. He says, “No don’t help me let the nurse help me”.

I could have a cleaning day and get busy and clean this house and paint it and do a power wash and plant the hill and a garden. Or I could go to Asheville and have an art day at the art museum and the galleries and have a pizza and beer for lunch and see that really fine film, History of Violence.

Or I can just stay in bed all day with the door shut and steal Don’s chocolate covered peanuts and eat them all and make myself mochas, and read about Clinton to finish this 950 page book.

Did I write that I HATE everyone, not just Don, but I hate him the most

(Removed some rather angry words (oh let them never) about three of my progeny who hold me in disdane. Don't need them here after all.)

And whom else do I hate.

Everyone in the world.

And I’m not too fond of myself either so I may weep a bit but I will not cry out loud or howl. I’ll just pray for all these people I truly hate and may they all rot in hell.

Well, one thing I can do is empty all the Damp-Rid bags and boxes. That will be my project. And I’ll never, never attempt to take care of or even acknowledge any of these, those sons-of bitches again.

And I’ll drink and smoke and take tranquilizers too.

And I think it’s time for all those gods to send me my $19,000,000 TOO!!

I forgot to mention that I hate DJ Lafon (Arthur Peter-Fish) also and did I mention that I hate Don too.

And myself and I pray for us all.

I’ll sleep.

I’ll sleep away my life.

Good idea.

And I’ll take pills

Pain pills, tranquilizers, sleeping pills.

One for you and one for you

Depending on my need.

I’ll sleep through the Bush and Rove presidency.

I’ll sleep while dog bites swell and people throw milk that seeps into etchings

And through all the suffering that isn’t my own

Lady bugs crowding on the ceiling

Mildew eating away the contents and then the house.

And headaches

And heartaches

And limps and old age.

Good Night.

I’ll see you around.