Lenny Bruce in candor

This morning at my best hour I was alert and energized and desirous of working and instead of plunging ahead, made myself go to sleep in order to throw my money away on Karina, my 21st century Shirley Booth, except Karina's mother is dying from a melanoma and so once again we play the bitches wiggle out game, and I am tired, gassy, impacted, wondering why I wasted my fucking time on Tarantino's expensive cartoon. Carradine does a beautiful take on reminiscing, but there is absolutely no point to this damn project, while I'm running around pretending my indictment of the country matters. I could just put my foot down Wednesday and defy the exterminator's 30 second incursion. I've done it before. I'm not mad at the girl, though it is probably best if I let her go; I am not being helped by her inability to keep a schedule, terminally ill parent non withstanding. Exasperated, my entire life doomed via reneging and an utter lack of Google's vaunted efficacy.