Kadin doesn't like Leonard Cohen.

Why is this odd? Alex, beautiful wonderful Alex who was the First - yes, that does deserve capitalization - he sent me the lyrics to "I'm Your Man" by Leonard Cohen. Later, my tortured artist sent me the lyrics to "Take This Waltz", which is incidentally become one of my favorite songs. It... I dunno. For some reason this songwriter seems to have struck a chord with them, and with me. They aren't perfect, they aren't even entirely sane. But they are fitting.

"There's a concert hall in Vienna / Where your mouth had a thousand reviews / There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking / They've been sentanced to death by the blues / Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture / With a garland of freshly-cut tears / Aye, aye aye aye / Take this waltz / Take this waltz / Take this waltz, it's been dying for years"

Not... normal. Not classy. Not reasonable or rational or anything but sweetly, madly beautiful. And I love it.

If you ever want to get on my good side, quote me Cohen. It seems to have an effect far more profound than it really should.

And now I'm off to the pre-appointment for my abortion. It's oddly hard to type that word - raised the way I was, it's akin to typing sacrilige, or murder... but not in a fun way, you know?

"And I'll dance with you in Vienna / I'll be wearing a river's disguise"

I can't help singing. It's sing and smile, or cry and hide. I'd almost rather hide, but I only have two percoset and one vicodin left. I can't hide in drugs for much longer. I can't hide in this house, it's too hot, too small, too endlessly pressing. I can't even hide in my writing, nothing has been coming out lately. No words, just occasional bursts of text that a day later, seem meaningless.

So what do I do if I can't hide?

Apparently, pretend to be normal and wait for my body to be ripped apart. I'm good at that.