Hello, you've reached the confidential voicemail of Julian Darcy. To leave...

Vinnie called me just now, and I didn't answer... it would make sense to go to work tonight since I can't tomorrow or the following, but, I'm so tired, and I have my show coming up and I should practice, and rest a little.

I went thrift shopping with Em today. SCORED. Like, whole new wardrobe for $50. And 2 pairs of rad shoes. Unbelievable. It's partly, I kinda knew what I wanted going in there. You need to, in a gigantic Good Will...

Um, I feel really sad, and confused. J canceled Friday, and I said I maybe couldn't Tuesday, and he said he maybe could Monday, but never followed up, and now it's Sunday night, and like, I haven't written him at all, like I usually do, but I have about that, to ask about the appointment. And he hasn't answered. And now it's tomorrow, and I don't even know... I guess it's Father's Day. And he's... out of town or something?

Who knows.

But he should be responding to his patients. About appointments. Especially when he requires a 72 hour cancellation notice.

And. This makes me really sad. And I still really care.

Meh.

I should've gone to work tonight. I got all my tax returns back, so when I get a receipt at the ATM today I was like WHAT-- I did a couple gigs that paid really well and were also like 50% taxed, so I got back a LOT-- and got home from this Art Walk thing with Em and was just tired from walking around all day, and tired and tired, so I didn't. But maybe I should've. I'm in a rather shitty mood. And I have homework to do (and heeeeere's the weekend! A-gain! AAAAAND it's over.) so I only had like a few minutes after getting home and I was just dawdling a little even though I told a regular of mine to go in but ultimately I'm to F'in tired... I'm gonna try to make myself go to bed in an hour. Ok. Not gonna say what I was gonna say. Ha.

Night.

Turn it off.

I know. I mince words. Like it's Sloppy Joe night. So: Sick. Fat. Frustrated. Lazy. (Strep?) Flake. Tearverged. Disappointed. Car battery dead. Four days now. Shut in. Four days now. All ready, set, strengthgathered to go play at big place in town, too, before discovery.

Joanna flaked, or tried to make it tomorrow. I was, momentarily, just overit.