The New Sense

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

I'm writing this sitting out on the balcony at 4am because I can't sleep. I feel like such an idiot. What was the last thing I wrote yesterday? "Windows open." And someone fucking climbed in one of them while we were at the show. Jesus Fucking Christ I'm so pissed off. All my fucking CD's are gone and a bit of worthless jewellery. Cops say it was probably a junkie needing a quick hit. CD's are like cash. He just took one of my bags, filled it up with CD's and left. Probably took about 3 minutes.
What a ridiculous irony, I just realised. I was out at a music show, and meanwhile lost all my music. Cops were so annoying the way they said, "You might want to think about getting some insurance." What's the fucking point? After this it'll cost me more than replacing the CD's.
B— feels like shit about the whole thing. He really wanted to treat me to the concert, and now he feels like he's responsible. He wants to restock my CD collection for me. Should I let him? It's not like it really costs him anything.
At least the concert was good. I've got a feeling Bob'll be on a stage somewhere when he's 90, surrounded by cool, good-looking, talented musicians while he does his donkey thing in the middle.
B— 's out right now, scouring the neighbourhood, convinced he'll be able to catch the thief using his sense. This time I think he really is nuts. Mind you, if he does catch him I'll really start feeling like Lois Lane.
This is really gonna fuck me up for tomorrow's shift.

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