wanderlust dust

i’ve somehow neglected to do a proper inventory on the contents of my backpack since recovering it from the tri-met lost and found until today. i could tell by the look on the face of mr. lost and found man that he had obviously rummaged through it. i wasn’t surprised that my glass piece and small amount of weed were missing, but i figured they/he would have left the red pen with the small dildo attatched to the butt of it. im just thankful that he wasnt interested in the ian curtis biography or the envelope containing photos of some dog on girl beasteality porn. woops.. its for an art project, i swear. they were found in the video lounge by one of my co-workers. it appears they were lifted from a video, a really sort of beautiful, snuff film composition to them.

mom called yesterday to tell me that i had two months to find a place for my dog because they had just filed for bankruptcy and were probably gonna lose the house. the reason behind her call had nothing to do with my dog, obviously. but i wondered if there was more involved than her typical pity party, and if i was expected to offer any more than my sympathy. like moving back to that awful place, working two jobs and selling my ass to save my poor, elderly parents from being turned out into the streets.  is it my fault that my mother dumped every dime into slot machines and her home shopping network account while my father still cant use an atm machine, and only wants to watch marathons of COPS while drinking generic brand orange soda in his recliner?

this is so not my problem..