Today I'm going to pull out $20 from my bank account.
Today I'm going to buy a ticket for the Powerball lottery drawing on Saturday.
On Saturday, I'm going to bring home the $187 million jackpot.
Today is Sunday.
I'm looking back on these events.
They have already happened.
I already have my winning ticket.
I already have the jackpot.
Today I feel relief.
Today I feel good.
Today I know.
Like I know the back of my hand.
Today I will sleep and actually rest.
Today I know.
And TODAY I know.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Shitty Stuff Email
I check my email every ten minutes, looking for something from you.
And then I get something. And it's talking about all the shit in our lives right now.
And even though it's a shitty email, it feels so good to be talking to you. I just want to be talking to you, and I think that's why things are so shitty right now: neither of us feel like we can talk to each other.
But it sure does feel good to get an email from you. Even an email about shitty stuff.
And then I get something. And it's talking about all the shit in our lives right now.
And even though it's a shitty email, it feels so good to be talking to you. I just want to be talking to you, and I think that's why things are so shitty right now: neither of us feel like we can talk to each other.
But it sure does feel good to get an email from you. Even an email about shitty stuff.
My Fucking Boss
My fucking boss came to my cube today. She calls me "Money Man" now. It makes me sick.
She asked how my work was coming and if I had found any more "money" today. I told her that I was hunting down "money" and trying to "make it submit". She laughed and left my cube.
I hate that woman. She's a fuck. And I hate being "Money Man".
And I hate that I can make my fucker boss laugh but I can't make my wife laugh anymore.
And I hate the music on my iPod right now. It fucking sucks ass chunks.
She asked how my work was coming and if I had found any more "money" today. I told her that I was hunting down "money" and trying to "make it submit". She laughed and left my cube.
I hate that woman. She's a fuck. And I hate being "Money Man".
And I hate that I can make my fucker boss laugh but I can't make my wife laugh anymore.
And I hate the music on my iPod right now. It fucking sucks ass chunks.
We
We didn't used to fight at all.
Now, it seems like that's all we do.
I don't feel listened to.
You feel attacked.
And it makes me really, really sad.
I feel like my best friend is gone and I don't know when I'll see her again.
I just want it to stop and get my best friend back.
But I don't know how to do that.
Now, it seems like that's all we do.
I don't feel listened to.
You feel attacked.
And it makes me really, really sad.
I feel like my best friend is gone and I don't know when I'll see her again.
I just want it to stop and get my best friend back.
But I don't know how to do that.
You're Not An Artist!
Artists get a bad rap because everybody in the world claims that they're an artist. And then they try to prove it by painting something or drawing something or playing the riff from "Smoke On The Water" for you, as if to say, "See, I'm a true guitar player."
All these people suck and they make me sick. You're a tourist, alleging to live in the city you're visiting. You're a fake and a liar and trying to make yourself bigger than you are because you know that being an artist makes you deep and unique and individual, but you're too goddam gutless to actually try it, so you go to your fucking day job and you work to collect people's overdue phone bills and then, at night, you slink away to your home that looks like everybody elses home and you try to play guitar and you give yourself a goddam boner because you're able to play a passable passage from a rock song. You're worse than shit. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire.
And quit sending me your poser shit in my email of the stupid BBQ sandwich that is supposed to cheer me up and make me happy that I'm going to the stupid break room to eat your stupid BBQ sandwich! I hate BBQ sandwich and I hate you!
All these people suck and they make me sick. You're a tourist, alleging to live in the city you're visiting. You're a fake and a liar and trying to make yourself bigger than you are because you know that being an artist makes you deep and unique and individual, but you're too goddam gutless to actually try it, so you go to your fucking day job and you work to collect people's overdue phone bills and then, at night, you slink away to your home that looks like everybody elses home and you try to play guitar and you give yourself a goddam boner because you're able to play a passable passage from a rock song. You're worse than shit. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire.
And quit sending me your poser shit in my email of the stupid BBQ sandwich that is supposed to cheer me up and make me happy that I'm going to the stupid break room to eat your stupid BBQ sandwich! I hate BBQ sandwich and I hate you!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Stuck In The Snow
There was this dude who got his car stuck in the snow.
He couldn't move forward or backward. He tried rocking the car, like all the driver's ed classes say you should do, but it didn't do any good. He tried slowly accelerating, and that didn't do any good. He tried jamming on the go pedal. Nope, no good. He had tried to get out and push the car. Still no good. He was stuck.
He didn't really panic, though. The other cars on the road were zipping by him without difficulty, and he didn't feel like he was in tremendous danger. And even though he knew he would get hungry and cold and lonely if he stayed in the car for a really long time, right now, he was okay. It would be okay to take a moment and not try to move the car. It didn't feel great to take a break like this, but everything else he had tried wasn't working. You can't continue to do the same things and expect different results, so he thought he would try something different: he would take a break. Perhaps the snow would be different when he tried again-- a little more or a little less whatever he needed to get unstuck. Maybe it would different in a little bit.
That's me now. I'm sitting in the car. I'm stuck. Everything I know to try hasn't gotten me unstuck yet. So I'm taking a break in the car, waiting for whatever might happen to happen to help me get unstuck. I'm not terribly patient right now. I want to be unstuck. But I don't know what else to do, so I'm not going to continue to try the same things and expect a different result.
So I'm stuck in the snow now. Which sucks, because nobody else is dealing with snow right now at the end of March.
He couldn't move forward or backward. He tried rocking the car, like all the driver's ed classes say you should do, but it didn't do any good. He tried slowly accelerating, and that didn't do any good. He tried jamming on the go pedal. Nope, no good. He had tried to get out and push the car. Still no good. He was stuck.
He didn't really panic, though. The other cars on the road were zipping by him without difficulty, and he didn't feel like he was in tremendous danger. And even though he knew he would get hungry and cold and lonely if he stayed in the car for a really long time, right now, he was okay. It would be okay to take a moment and not try to move the car. It didn't feel great to take a break like this, but everything else he had tried wasn't working. You can't continue to do the same things and expect different results, so he thought he would try something different: he would take a break. Perhaps the snow would be different when he tried again-- a little more or a little less whatever he needed to get unstuck. Maybe it would different in a little bit.
That's me now. I'm sitting in the car. I'm stuck. Everything I know to try hasn't gotten me unstuck yet. So I'm taking a break in the car, waiting for whatever might happen to happen to help me get unstuck. I'm not terribly patient right now. I want to be unstuck. But I don't know what else to do, so I'm not going to continue to try the same things and expect a different result.
So I'm stuck in the snow now. Which sucks, because nobody else is dealing with snow right now at the end of March.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)