I'm doing something to murder time... Thinking about times past when I would write in slow moments during my working stiff shifts, back when the party seemed to be able to go on indefinitely... And there was even stability besides !
Can I just get some honest work for money? I didn't think it would be this difficult... Why doesn't it get easier ? Yes I learn more... I learn to fear more, don't I? How strange that I ate dinner right here, on the ravenhead tour.... And talked with Lyndon about sending away tracks to be mastered . I'll love the servers, she said. I should have said something comforting like oh no, they're plastic, you're flora... I dunno. Instead of getting defensive. I could tell she was in pain at the prospect of the servers. But, what can ya do? History is boring... What is this, just references now?
He's 17 minutes late.... WOW... 17 minutes of me clenching in the restaurant... You'd think it'd be easier by now. You'd think I'd be stealing coffee now. Yes, I should steal for a living, that'll settle my stomach ... Resolve issues. Marthafucking interviews... "meeting" euphemism... Reinvention horizon or has the imagination ratio run below the graph line of no return?
Thank you god if I got it. I can manage a modicum of modesty like Modesto and get by, mayhap
channeling easy mode
Sometimes I fade, like Bod . Then proceed to get away with things. Stealing time, treating myself. To a glorified journal entry. This pigmy...
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