Maaaayn, I don't even feel like writing today. see what lack o' comments on what I think are the best entries evaaah in my sleep deprived head do to me? I cannot even think of anything good enough. okay, that should produce action...whatever.

I Wanna See It When yougetstonedonacloudybreezydesertafternoon
11:54 PM CST

Dad is back from his trip. I wasn't sure who was banging loudly on the door this cloudy on the verge of rainy afternoon. I wasn't expecting a package and forgot he was returning around now. I invited him in though I wasn't cheery at all. I was sort've blaaah. my eyes still hurt. I keep sneezing and my nose is stuffy. I just sort've played some music and sat there pretending I was listening to what he was sayin' for awhile.

I tend to block people out when I put music on - I make horrible company on occasion unless I'm excited about you and know you're arriving. anyway, he brought my calendar down while I was in the midst of some cloudy thoughts on deserts and dirt paths facing the other direction. he then says, "what's this? what's this?" my smart ass remark? ..."it's a calendar" he then sort've lets the statement go and flips the pages. I mumble that I don't like people touching my calendar which isn't true, but eh. I just didn't feel like answering his silly questions. he then points to one of the characters and says, "who's he? the one in the glasses?" I then said, "even if I told you, it wouldn't matter. you don't even know that series." he then says, "what is this?" and I mumbled, "love hina" and he said "what? love ..huh?" I then repeated, "love hina" he stares like he's trying to get the calendar to give him some answer; pondering too much - then he repeats, "love....hina?" I then say, "yes. look, nevermind. you've never seen it." he then is silent, looks at each page intently, then puts it back on the wall. I turn back around to face the wall cross legged on my bed ignoring him.

He stares at my bookshelf. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. you cannot ignore his jingling keys and footsteps. he seems to overexaggerate the beats to my music with his keys. I tell him to stop. I hate when he slaps his leg or brings in some other object cause he cannot keep in tune. it's just an annoyance in the midst of good music. I guess that's the way he gets into it, but stiiiilll.. whatever. at least he didn't scrutinise the music. he said one group sounded like Pink Floyd. I dunno, but eh, I've only heard a few songs of theirs, so I wouldn't know.

He came upon a funny card from the guest's gift to me he brought last month. he chuckled to himself and said "monkeys in party hats? who gave you this card?" I look over and as I recall who it was, I say I forgot, but the card next to it Starcat gave me. he just briefly looks at that one then leaves the room. I'm afraid he'll touch the computer, so I follow.

He reads more cards that are up on top of the desk. he reads the ones from grandpa then he comments, "he gives you alot of cards." I say, "yeah, only when giving checks." then he asks, "do you like the cards or do you like the checks?" what type of question is that really? I said I liked both. then I asked why he cared to read them. he said grandpa missed us. he wanted us there. well, of course. he always wants us there, so that's not a surprise. I hope dad didn't come over to make me feel guilty. I was quite ill last month anyway.

After awhile he said he should go mow the lawn and told me to tell mom to call when she came back. I just sort've nodded then he said I should hang out over at the old house sometime. I said "yeah, maybe..." of course, I said it with no enthusiasm. I just don't really want to see what the place has become. maybe if someone came with me, I'd go over there, but as is, the way it has been described, I don't know.

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