Sour Particles

I was never any good at paint by numbers; I always have to have them exact. The brushes are blunt to begin with, and they get worse as you paint. And when I spend time making sure you have not gone over the lines, which becomes progressively harder, you end up running out of time. Sometimes I wish I would decide to do one quick and just be happy with the way it turns out. With stuff other than painting, which I have no natural skill at, I can actually finish them and be happy with the quality. I think I hate painting by numbers, but I will never give it up. I think this whole concept of by the numbers could relate to life in general.

Frenchy turned twenty-one, highlights (if you can call them that) of him for the evening would be loudly whispering to me "she's a big girl... ...she heard me huh?" referring to a large chested girl talking to us, falling down a 2 or 3 foot curb face first, getting kicked out of one bar and kicking a garbage can after I let him go on his way out causing two nearby bouncers to yell profanities and start to chase him down until we calmed them down, going in to the last bar and sitting down his elbow knocked over an amp which also took out a cello and caused half the people in the bar who were related to the band to want to beat him down, after leaving that bar punching a metal street sign and getting a big gash on one of his fingers, getting blood from his finger on everyone else around him and not even noticing he is bleeding at all, plus a lot of other things... ...and there was the random drunk dude who tried to start something with me, I pushed him aside and kept walking, then ten seconds later he's in a fight with everyone else, alcohol makes people act funny.