Libertine

There has been a liberation. Free at last and all that jazz.

No, I don't really feel that good about it yet. The parts of today when I wasn't actually in tears, I wanted to be, but put on the brave face to be polite (in drunken company). Thank God for Eighties Dave, who perfectly called at just the right moment for me to cry on his shoulder. And that's fine; I need to cry more anyhow. Also spread the wealth among the many fine sturdy shoulders available to me, not lean on Von quite so much.

Things have changed, finally, in the PN firmament. Shaken up. Even Catmandoo isn't mooning around all lovesick and predictable anymore. Time has come for me to fall into step with the Revolution. I'm going to cast my attentions on someone who deserves them, like maybe the Captain. After all, if that Tarot card reading is going to come true, I need to be a good girl between now and August. Less aspiration, more appreciation.

Funny, before I started writing, I thought I had wittier, pithier things to say. So much for a 4 a.m. miracle; maybe I'll try again in daylight.

And yes, I know that's not what "libertine" means; call it poetic license.