There's a gnat in my apartment, dear Liza, dear Liza...

i think just one, but it's -fast-. been eluding me for days now. dances up, gets in my face, then darts away. very annoying.

i am having images of, like, bringing out increasingly heavy artillery--a spray, a swatter, a carpet beater, a machine gun, a wrecking ball--and it occurs to me that there's a metaphor in here somewhere.

and probably an important life lesson.

--fuck that, i want the little fucker DEAD DED DED.