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2005-09-08 - 12:11 a.m.

"...and my mom thinks I can't give enough, I cant pour enough, that my love is not enough in this big world." -The Chinkees "Big World"

Another restless late evening here, listening to music with the headphones, looking up at the ceiling. There are skis up there. Skis no one has used in a very long time. I personally have never been skiing. It's an awkward word, ski. I imagine the sport itself could only be moreso. Also, lots of cobwebs up there. I killed two spiders at work today. They were big and hanging near the ceiling. I put a small white bag on each hand, stood on a chair, and smashed them into spider paste. The bags were so I didn't make a mess of the ceiling, but mostly so I didn't have to actually touch a spider. I effing hate them. Most bugs I will catch and set free outside, even big gross ones with no pretty colors and forty legs and fifteen stingers. I have a tolerance for things smaller than me, with the exclusion of the eight legged ones. When I was twelve or thirteen or so, there was a summer when the porch got invaded by those big nasty grey barn spiders. One gruesome night, when my parents were away, I took my BB gun out there and annihilated all of them, every last one. Their webs were spattered with bits of their legs and bodies, and their nasty yellow innards dripped down in little puddles all over the place. I scraped up any egg sacs I saw into a paper towel and burned them. There are still some BB's embedded in the porch roof out there. But there are no barn spiders. They never returned. If there's an afterlife, it's full of those things, millions of them waiting for me.

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