like a [broken] record baby right round

how do i fill my days? with gasoline. high octane, preferably, but i'll take what i can get [& then more when nobody's looking]

it’s october twenty-eighth two-thousand and nine do you know where your significance is? Hey man, we don’t need your money, we just wanna check your pockets for holes… is my head next? Please tell me my head is next. Drill a few exploratory wholes in there to see what makes me tick, find out it’s nothing, the illusion shattered [a scene]:

the man behind the curtain has locked himself in the bathroom to shoot up uh oh what are we going to do now? A field trip full of kids & no one to explain to them how the world/machine works. I mean he’ll come out of the bathroom eventually, but meanwhile how are we going to entertain all these restless ten-year-olds? Cracking the requisite potty-mouthed jokes, taken to the 20th power because the guy is actually in the bathroom, we knew something was up with him long ago I swear but we thought he’d cleaned up his act. please don't fire me this job validates the very respiration of my CELLS---
...So! we come forward with a suggestion—how about a game of charades? Call it “life” but don’t put that on the box because you’re infringing on someone’s trademark. Which came first the cereal or the board game? Or, you know, actual LIFE? “getting people high since TK BC” favorite flavor tag line. Tag, you’re it, shhh. Tag, you’re shit, uh pardon my dyslexia it only comes out to play when I’ve had a few. A few what?

When the paper chase becomes literal—someone stop that bill! Mr Washington comebackyouleftyourovenon !!!

the obvious: i have a job. i write about promotional products for a company whose walls are plastered with motivational posters that worry me immensely whenever i read them. i sit at a computer until i resemble a vegetable. remind me again why i didn't go straight into grad school? oh right. my brain was fucking FRIED.

the less-than-obvious: i am actively applying for grad school, as in have applications open on three schools' websites, instead of staring mutely at the deadline all deer-in-head-lights-with-sunglasses like i usually do. fuck the adult world i'm not cut out for this shit, just pickle me in academia & stamp me irrelevant

...now, back to your previously scheduled silence. now with more regret, more insomnia, & less money, always less money. cheers!