Finished A Million Little Pieces, started The Lovely Bones.

Finished the Schmitt Söhne, started the Red Bicyclette.

Friday I find out whether or not my contract at work will be renewed. Friday is also the end of " Time Apart", or at least I know it's the end of...something.

Thanks to my awesome friends of whom I've negleted for so long. An excerpt if you will:

I leave the trail, force my way through heavy, frozen wood. I am shaking and my heart raving and I am clenching my fists and I am clenching My Feet are snapping twigs and crushing infant sappling trees, my arms are moving whatever stands in front of me. The sharp sounds of destruction, a snap crack crack, incense me, enrage me, make me want to break more, destroy more, ruin everything. I want to ruin everything everywhere. I want to fucking run.
I break through a stand of thick evergreen and into a small, tight, circular Clearing, I stop walking forging psuhing fighting and I close my eyes and I take a deep breath and I hope that the breath will calm me but it doesn't another doesn't another doesn't. I want to be calm but there is no calm for me.

How I am here. How I have arrived in this place at this moment on this day with this feeling history future problems life this horrible fucked-up waste-of-alife how. Fifteen minutes ago I was holding a lifelong criminal and cocaine addict who spent his childhood with.....as he cried and was scared to go back into the Real World. I ate my lunch with some kind of menacing middle-aged movie star look-alike and a three-strike fugitive and a steel worker with torn-out hair plugs and a 110 lb ghost who used to be the champion of the world. I was given a coloring book and told it would help make me better. I watched some judge;s stupid fucking video and I was told it would help me. I got sick, just like I did every other fucking day, and I'm not getting better. I'm twenty three and I've been an alcoholic for 10 years and a drug addict and a criminal for almost as long and I'm in a hospital in the middle of Minnesota and I want to drink and I want to do some drugs and I can't control myself. I'm twenty three.
I breathe and I shake and I can feel it coming and rage and need and confusion regret horror shame and hatred fuse into a perfect FURY a great and beautiful and terrible and perfect FURY the fury, I can't stop the fury or control the fury come come come. Let it motherfucking come. The fury has come.

-- James Frey

Stream-of-Consciousness = beautiful. I give this book an 8 out of 10. But, it's hard to 'review' a real person's life struggle.

the little red bicycle's kicking in, so i'm heading to bed.