a heart-shaped stain on the seat of my jeans

It's hard for me to tell if I'm so shitty at taking care of myself because of a conscious decision, or whether it's just my self-destructive tendencies letting themselves loose as laziness. Whichever, I hope I get over it soon. I need to call the fucking doctor.

...

Terrorists suck. I wish war was the answer, but you can't blame a country for a few people. And you can't reason with these fuckers, they're obviously insane.

re-covering

Someone had scribbled on the original cover in ballpoint pen, but the book is a good one, and I wanted to give it to my nephew.

Stripped off the old cover and spine, got my father to drill a bunch of holes in the text block, and sewed that for extra sturdiness. Then I covered it with some heavy paper I had around. The cover has flaps at the foredge to protect the corners a little.

There's a label on the spine too. I realize the label looks kind of crappy, but hey, it was my first time.

I could probably repair old paperback books with pages falling out this way.