And I loved her, because I loved her music; then she was racist, then non-chalant about it; I bought the record just now...

I don't give a fuck about Men.

Karen and I broke up. No questions. It just didn't work.

I lost myself.

I found her (that me) while staring at a teetering ceiling tile over the cute bassist (http://www.electrelane.com/site.html) and remembering that even if I don't love punk rock, I love the people with whom I watch it. Maybe too much.

There's a part of me that is a little lost right now, but it's okay to have a lost part or parts, and have some found parts, all at once. I figured that out by being crabby, but keeping quiet.