John (of course) is listening to Johnny Cash. I love it. I posted on twitter already that these little moments of happiness make me love life. I come home from an unproductive day at work to find him in a clean house blaring “The Beast in Me.”
I have just finished reading “Killer Kids”, which is about children/teenagers who kill their parents. It’s not very disturbing. I have just started reading “Loss of Innocence”, which IS disturbing because it’s about kids who kill other kids. Something about that just makes me ill inside. But I can’t set it down.
Isn’t that funny how even though something evokes such strong emotion, I still want to experience it. It’s like I like the adrenaline rush of all that emotion, almost? I don’t know.
Don’t take your guns to town.
