Is it wrong, when you step in a big pile of thrown-up catfood, and you hobble into the kitchen to get some paper towels, and you come back out to find the dog eating it, to just say, “fuck it,” and let her?
I’m kind of glad it’s going to be hot today, because that makes it a little easier to get back to work. I just completely goofed off this weekend, for the most part. I didn’t even finish cleaning the bathroom.
But it was so nice and I wanted to just be outside, goofing off, and so that’s what we did.
I was thinking about Jason Stackhouse in last night’s episode of True Blood, and how one of the things that makes him so interesting as a character is that he’s just a complete send up of a certain kind of manliness. Everything he’s been prepped to do or be his whole life is kind of useless. He’s not a great football hero. Even when he comes into Merlotte’s looking to kick ass and take names, the crowd doesn’t respond how they’re supposed to.
And yet, it’s in his embracing of something he is clearly not–a god–that they’re able to save Sam.
I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m keeping my eye on it.