of lice and zen

i am completely lost here. i honestly have no idea where the fuck i belong. i am doing my damndest to see the best in things, the humor in the multiple foibles, but i finally snapped tonight after something especially inconsequential (involving a lack of an outlet for my all-but-defunct laptop). i ended up crying in my car in a dark parking lot behind an italian restaurant that was blowing garlic plumes out of its vent system. couples holding hands walked by, oblivious. and yes, there is humor in this: it is melodrama at its knee-slapping finest. i just wish there was someone to tell it to.
i saw robyn hitchcock play a free show at easy street records this afternoon. it was filmed for the sundance channel, they announced once i got there. he was fucking brilliant. i, however, felt like shit (not to be vile, but it was fairly literally; thanks, ever-present ibd, for making my life fucking hell- surely this is contributing to my mindset). thus, if one ever sees "robyn hitchcock and the venus 3 live at easy street" on the sundance channel, look for the wet-haired urchin in the green sweater, leaning against the used cds and appearing nauseous. that would be me. my god, he was good. he did a cover of 'what goes on' that made me especially happy.
i learned today that humans and giraffes both have 7 vertebrae in their necks. giraffes' are simply longer. also, a group of larks is an exaltation. all i need now is a fucking cocktail party.