Day 10/11. My identity was stolen.

Yes! That’s why it’s another double-posting day. My fucking identity was stolen. Purloined. Copped. Taken. I would have posted yesterday but…no shit…my identity was gone.

It’s been really trying, too.

I woke up yesterday* (don’t worry: I’m not woke) to discover I didn’t know who I was. Not a clue. I don’t mean the way my ex-wife referrred to me, either. (You guys know what I’m talking about.) “He’s fucking clueless,” ex-wife says to her friends. If my ex-wife has any friends, which I doubt. Note: she doesn’t think I have friends, either. I don’t. Likely that’s why we were with one another.

And I’m still searching, too. I’ve looked under the water bed (ever try to lift a water bed, particularly when it belongs to the neighbor and she’s still sleeping on the mattress with her fat girlfriend?) I returned home then searched in the cheap IKEA bowls. All I found was dead moths. On the bright side, the dead moths add body to Campbell’s soup. That’s what I ate the last time I used the bowls. ‘Least that’s what the stains appear to be.

Tomorrow I’ll go back to searching for my identity. For now, I wanna watch the porn show. It’s an old lesbo movie starring Nancy Reagan and Donna Reed. Maybe my neighbors will wake up ‘n want to join me. It’s a great film.

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