Fun fact: people are fickle as shit. I’m not innocent just yesterday I was dead set on quitting my job and was full of piss and vinegar then I had a few drinks and a quick chat with a co-worker about DC lore and now, well… my shift starts at nine tonight. It’s the constant stream of crisis that made me want to quit my job at the bar. At any one time, a staff member is in meltdown or a customer is dishing out empty threats – and then try to force their way back in to ‘apologise’, okay fuck-face, sure.
I probably should quit but there’s always tomorrow for that.
In other related news, I’m reading this great book right now which is strange for me as I barely ever describe something as great if not related to fucking or cheesecake, and I read even less. It’s A City Dreaming by Daniel Polansky. As of right now, reading that and getting wasted on Corpse Revivers is the only thing giving me encouragement to stay out of my bed. Absinthe and my bed have a lot in common actually. They both make me feel warm and fuzzy and I get to avoid difficult questions and neurotics from projecting their shit at me. I have to say, that book is excellent, I do recommend it and wish my life was anything close to as interesting as the protagonist’s. Arguably it’s as dysfunctional and just as alcohol, sex, and coffee orientated – which by the way, Mother, isn’t a bad thing at all, I’m having a good time or at least seem like I am.
This post will unfortunately be a short one, I’ve yet to have a morning black coffee and as I’m so easily distracted, once I close the document, I seldom open it up again. You really know your life is in a sorry state of affairs when your own words start to bore you. Maybe I should mix it up for you, the reader, by throwing in a random FUCK for dramatic effect.
Note to self: engage in more booze fuelled hijinks for better anecdotes.