Tuesday, 16 February 2016

Bad mood is over; I had a nice day today. I am still slightly mentally impaired from nightmares and continue to use wrong words, but I am happier by a bunch since yesterday morning. Took grandma for another gastrospectronomy thingie, which she goes to like other people go to the movies. This means an additional hour lost, sitting in a waiting room while she tries talking to me about her medical problems, which I won't listen to. She then - she talks very loudly just to get attention - asks me stuff like: why are you being so rude/so impatient/so unfriendly', doing that fucking idiotic mean chuckle and looking at anyone who would look back. Then people give me very dirty looks, as if 'how can you be such a monster to your poor granny'. Which is all I need to get into full blown bitch mode and snarl: You wanna hear about her fucking hemorrhoid procedure for the fourth fucking time? be my guest. Tell 'em, gran," and go to the loo. So she tells everyone. bet that fucking makes their day a whole lot better.
    But it's fun all in all and it makes her happy. I told her a small lie to make her happy, too. This would be the second lie I told in the span of a week. Lying to me is like running over a kitten or burning down a forest - it happens, but it is nothing to ever want to do again. First lie was to the pastry chef audition people - I said I finished the pastry school, but nobody cared, because they said schools don't mean anything. That’s a retarded thing to say. Schools mean everything. The lie to grandma was that it was mum who bought her pretty hair pins. Mum is the kind of a dick to not buy gran anything, so I did and lied. Another thing that made gran happy. Fuck it. If I could change the world fundamentally, I would. 
    The cognitive hiccup suffered today (After telling Drej yesterday that we should only walk the dogs in the rain as far as the boat (I meant city pool.), I wanted to tell grandma not to stand in front of doors and said 'trees'. 'Don't stand in front of trees'. These inarticulate symptoms are funny and I warn everyone about them.
     After gran, I offed to get myself some breakfast and coffee (needed it, you should see the depressing fucking weather we've been having), the hurried over to the city museum, where I charmed a custodian to give me a private tour of a 'peasants revolt' exhibition. If you're looking for something dirty about this sentence, trust me, it really was a private tour of a peasants revolt expo. The lady at the register asked if I plan to write about it, in which case I'd be free to enter, but I wanted to pay and I certainly am going to be writing about it. I know exactly who I’m gonna interview. I've taken four pages of notes. The custodian spoke for an hour about a 1515 uprising, which naturally ended badly, but which was a nasty thing to begin with, on both sides. I know I am inclined to take the side of the peasants, but even after they agreed to ceasefire, some would still go raid places like a women's monastery, just for the sick kicks of it. 
      After the tour, we ran into Barbara, a young paintress working there part time, and the three of us offed for coffee, though there on mostly just B and I talked. After coffee I went to pick up the second bit of money from some people who owed me and extended my stroll to say hi to G at his workplace. Was pretty tired when I got home, so napped after noodle lunch. Started watching Ppl Vs O.J., an American Crime Story series, though it's well done and will require undivided attention, unlike Young Turks shows, which I can just listen to while doing Warcraft dailies.