August 5, 2001


I don’t feel much like smiling today. Vulnerable mountains continue being raped by fires and human efforts to extinguish the flames are proving useless. We need rain. Dishes in our sink are piling up radiating a stout odor when the breeze catches them just right, but a strike has been endorsed by two fed up tenants who are sick of the third one not doing her part. I started my period on my day off and the throbbing cramps and explosive acne are not making it easy to fight off a bad mood. My weed supply has been sucked dry and I fear that my sanity will be disappearing as well. Late night chat sessions still engage every night, but I don’t feel like hanging out anymore. Everybody seems to be falling for everybody else, but I can’t have what I want and I am no longer interested in hearing what they have to say.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist