I wanna be sedated.

So 9th Moon just sent me mail asking why I don't put up a new journal entry, and my mom is a little peeved because I keep calling the house (for the first time in months) and it's not to talk to her. But I survived The Grand Federal Tax Fiasco, and I'm doing pretty well in the FrameMaker class. (The class is making me want to make a book for my Tarot RPG and an instruction manual for this chess variant called Fweeps.
Still nothing on the job front, and the income thing sucks a whole lot still, but folks went through a lot of effort last night to keep me from self-destructing, so if nothing else I suppose I owe it to them to keep at it.
I think that my friend Larry should meet my friend Tony. They remind me a lot of each other, and I want to arrange a meeting between them and see if the Blinovitch Limitation Effect knocks them across the room.
I can't think of anything else to say on the moment, except that I hope this meets expectations, and I promise to post again soon. (:

(no subject)

Oh yeah. The subject line. Joey Ramone died this week, and it was surprisingly sad. It's not like I knew him or anything, but the Ramones were a big part of my growing up. As sick as it sounds, sometimes songs about child abuse and drug abuse and pathological behaviour was my only hint that there was somebody who understood me and my life and what was going on in my head.
I'm feeling much better now.