Sex last night. Well, early this morning. After all the fighting and emotional upset. And it was painful. Odd kinda painful, though. Not really something I've experienced before, but it was quieter than most anything else-balled up fist punching. Now I'm sore as hell and bruised on the inside. But it was good. Violent, but not...I dunno. Not violent enough? Or maybe not revealing enough. I'm not sure exactly what word I'm looking for there. I think it's just that it wasn't enough of getting everything out, all our mutual frustrations and angers. Mostly because we had to be so damned quiet. Not because of Amethyst-not only does she sleep in the living room, but I swear that child could sleep through a parade of seventy six trombones, fifty eight drums, ninety clarinets, assorted brass, string, and wind instruments, and Armageddon itself-but because of his mother.
God, we really need our own fucking place.
Laters