Life is but a dream from which all must wake...
2003-05-13 � 6:29 p.m.

I've been away for a few days, down to Eugene to visit the sister and then home to the Ancestral Abode for Mom's Day and more birthday crap (birthdays are almost over, only dad's to go!).

Eugene was...interesting. My sister leads a complicated life, one that I cannot help but feel she complicates all on her own. Doesn't seem to bother her, so I suppose I shouldn't let it bother me. It's just that I have such a low threshold for drama that even being in the proximity of it makes me tired and ulcerous.

We ate a nice dinner that her roommate prepared, then went "out" which means we went to a crummy Eugene bar that rapidly filled with people I would never want to be around and my sister's friends. Some of them I know, and they were fine, but I got into a shouting match with a dirty stinking hippy, and that was weird. I don't do that kind of stuff.

My sister made her ex-boyfriend cry and then, when the bar closed, we picked up her new boyfriend, a nineteen-year-old dude who seems okay, and ended up at a party at some girl named Raven's house. I slept on my sister's couch.

Sunday was spent with the parents for the Mom's day — more food, my parents gave my sister and I birthday gifts, and I fell asleep in my old room.

Monday I slept in and got my car checked out (all good, repairs seem to be holding up) and then I had dinner with my parents again before coming back to Portland last night.

Now here I am the next day, and it's all like a weird dream. How does that happen? It seemed real enough at the time. But it might as well have been a bad short story.

Buffy tonight. Charmparticles on Thursday. Live show of "This American Life" with the Moms on Friday.

If I didn't think it would scare the shit out of me, I'd open my veins.

-t

Currently Aurally Inducing: Placebo, This Picture
Selection of the Lyrical Vocabulary: "Farewell the ashtray girl..."

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