In which Callie writes her thoughts one after another for a while.

What kind of a thing are we turning in to? What kind of an ape? The most intelligent among us are opting to breed less. How are we supposed to get out the way of that shit-suckin 8-ball?

When I watch him talking, his mouth looks just like a giant tabby’s engorged anus. Gross ass orange little pucker. Swollen hemorrhoids for lips. Ew.

I could have been put in jail when I was 18, for fucking my 16 year old boyfriend, by a cop who was 40-something, who had fucked me when I was 16. What could possibly be right about that? Anything? When will we be individual and self-aware and empathic enough to do away with age of consent laws and stupid things like that. Hah, not while there’s such a thing as money, I guess. Fuck-cop has to get his paycheck from something.

I wish my husband would stop buying a new printer every time ours runs out of ink, but he’s right, it’s cheaper. How fucked up is that? Why don’t people bitch about these things? Why don’t we bitch about everything? Why is even the most minor nuisance avoided with the maximum waste and expense? We do but we don’t, right? Why don’t we bitch about how terrible WordPress is out-of-the-box for scheduling posts, even after all this time? Why don’t I go get a banana and fuck myself with it a while? I might, that does sound better than it has in a while. I’m getting better! Yay!

I should be working on Man-Slave of Intraworld right now. I had to let a few things stew first, see how the politics got to working out and the lay of the land. I need to make a better map.

Yeah, I need to make a better map. Hope [REDACTED] and is feeling better. And [REDACTED]. Map! I’ve gotta go do that now.

Callie signing off, 3:39 AM 1/5/2017

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