good morning, new york

I woke up this morning to find my parents still in the house, surprising considering they were supposed to leave this morning at like 8. My father just can't get better. He's so disgustingly sick. The color of his skin and the sounds he makes; he can't talk much. It just makes me want to throw up. But I don't know if I really care that much, it's just something about sick people that makes me really queasy.

The poor guy, he's like Ivan Dmitrich Gromov.

I hate picking up my dog's shit. Especially when it's fucking watery and soft. Ugh. No matter what I can't get away from filth. I have dust bunnies on my floor and I vacuum and they just hide and come out when I put the vacuum away. It's nice out today but, of course, the only thing you can smell or see is filth. Phonies and crack heads, business men and mothers.