This morning I dreamed for what felt like half an hour that I was in a supermarket: I'd paid for some barbecued potato chips, I went down to the parking garage to wait for them, and no one brought them. And I was in a RAGE. A savage, throat-ripping rage in which I cursed out the supermarket employees and could find no peace.

If you accept the relativity of things, and I usually do, then none of us is truly above the fray: one person's friend is another person's enemy; one person's hero is another person's villain; one person's cunty nemesis is another person's cool frood. Etc.

Which kind of sucks, because you can never really take the comfort of the moral high ground.

I suppose there are people of sterling character out there, people with an iron will who've nailed moral and ethical consistency. Except consistency becomes unattractive, so you need to have a dram of flexibility and grace as well. Maybe some rationality, selflessness. And then what are you? A saint, and annoying as fuck.

Which is all just a roundabout way of saying that this is one of those days when I hate myself. And other people. I'd like to be able to kill people I hate--I don't mean metaphorically--without a jot of empathy, and with the reassuring certainty that they're my prey. This must be why I admire vampires, right?

I have been reading Drinking: A Love Story and thinking about rage, but it doesn't help me with my own rage, which is huge and irrational.

I have been trying to cheer myself up with rabbits and cats, but it's not working so well.

I did have pancakes today, and that was pretty good.

I watched QAF with S. last night, and that was good.

But nothing makes me feel better on the deepest, most fucked level of selfhood.

I'm willing to give it another try if someone recs a good S/X story, though. Surely this lameass, cocksucking universe contains *one* more good S/X story I haven't read?

---