Sorry for my long absence, ladies and germs; we at Grace Undressed are once again experiencing technical difficulties, viz. my laptop being a jankie old jalopy of a machine. There's no point in starting a long, soulful entry about the hard times at the titty bar or the mutating nature of my relationship with my romantic partner or the hat I'm trying to make myself knit for my brother's baby or how the phrase "brother's baby" in and of itself makes me want to go lie down for a while in a dark room. No point, because at any second I'll be caught and booted off the Internet connection I'm poaching from neighbors because my own no longer works, and I'll find myself suddenly alone writing these frantic declarations to myself. It's like writing to you from the freaking Bastille.
Anyhow, I'm back from Boston and it's awful nice to be home. While I was gone, the weather got crisp and beautiful and someone came and built an upscale loft building on our street of haunted Edwardian bungaloes. My cat got fleas. My friend Scarlett decided to move to New York at some unspecified date in the future. My boyfriend succumbed to loneliness and started smoking pot again. The Satanist's dog died and then he asked me to go to the Melvins show with him but I said no. I went back to the titty bar and the lean season is upon us again, which means all the cheapest and savviest pervs are there looking to score discount handjobs and holiday time is here with it's short days and long nights and supressed panic. Fantastic.
No time for more. If you miss me, buy me a computer.