Fucked up for a month

Last night I finally fixed fourdeadfish. I haven't been paying attention to the details, a problem I frequently encounter in my life. Tonight Evan looked over my shoulder as I was designing a business card and explained the subtle points of shape and metaphor. Tonight I paid close attention, and I think I actually learned something. Other nights I might have said something like, "uh-huh," and gone about the whole business in a haphazard way. I'm reading a manuscript — I just LOVE saying that, it makes me sound so hoity-toity — for a friend and the protagonist suffers from the inability to pay attention to those who are talking to her. I cringe when I read it, because I know that I suffer from the same thing. I've got a lot of work to do on myself. A LOT. This business of not paying attention to the details, or just not paying attention, has got to stop. I titled this entry "Fucked up for a month" because that's what fourdeadfish was. I can't even begin to describe how long I've been fucked up — anywhere from 12 months to 27 years. Okay, now I'm starting to sound NEGATIVE. Here's a joke I ACTUALLY made up myself. What was the city of Los Angeles experiencing when the smog alert was raised to the orange stage? A BAD AIR DAY!!!!!! Get it? Get it? Ohhhh, that's a bad one, I know. Okay. Off to bed.