Not So Mainichi

I have finally filed for divorce. Papered in and everything, and I am just waiting for the time to pass so I can close this musty old moldy book. I am hoping that there are no hard feelings, or legal actions taken, or overreaction on his part, that it just slides smoothly into the future, and the thing is done.

I have been so busy since I started on full time. They just keep piling things on my shoulders and it goes on and on and on, getting higher every day until I finally just turn my phone off and sigh deeply. During the work day.

I just got the DVD of Better Luck Tomorrow. I don’t wanna ruin it for you, but parts of it are very visceral. And the damn movie makes me want to smoke. Smoking is so quintessentially Asian, considering that Asian men almost all smoke (at least in my experience they all have at one time or another), and there’s just something about how they look smoking that catches at my attention. Especially Tony. He looks like a wicked-ass bad boy when he smokes. But he doesn’t smoke, he just holds the smoke and looks like he’s smoking. He looks good with it, though, and it makes me wish, at least a little, that I hadn’t quit, that I could lend him one of mine so I could see it again. I don’t have a sense of smoking as a hideous thing. Cancer seems so distant and abstract. The whole “It won’t happen to me” denial thing goes on full force with smoking, lemme tell ya.

So I do miss my ex, Mr. Marlboro, but no pity sex for me…