A dirt periscope

I have no place to go here. There's really nothing in my mind to start this piece. I have to adopt a more structured morning. There's so much I want to do but it's impossible while I fight with myself in bed every morning because my sleep wasn't great. I have to press on and hope for something better the next night.

Otherwise, my days are spent in self blame and accusation. I'm scuttling my own ship, foundering my own horse, spiking my own barrel, triggering my own claymore, shorting my own sheets. Let's see, can I think of any more? I'll come back to it when they pop into mind.

I got a message from Ashton asking about lymphomas. They're probably covering them in biology or something and she wanted to know if what she had was related to a lymphoma. I can only imagine how scared she was when she heard about that. I said that she didn't have a lymphoma she had a lymphoangioma. But she kept asking, yeah, but are they related? I kept answering only by spelling. I explained that lymphoma were tumors from lymph cells and lymphangiomas were wads of blood and lymph vessels.

I could tell she thought I was lying to her. I understand. It would be a scary thing to think that your parents had hidden something like that from you. I think I got the message across to her. I came right out and said that lymphomas were generally classified as cancers and lymphongiomas were not not not a cancer, Not a cancer. I could have said that they were congential malformations but I think I would have dug a hole a little deeper then.

Anyway, hopefully that blew over and the next big drama can take its place. Like she answered. Finna get lit. I'm thinking that lit means drunk or doped. This is the way language evolves. Oh well.

So I guess that about fills my sheet so my hands are warm and ready to rock and I can get on to the next part of the day.

More later,