Today I am at home, well but not always, just for now, for the past couple of hours. Today was Thanksgiving until just a minute ago. I had to work at the restaurant. I’m new, so them’s the mother fucking breaks.
But I am thankful to have a job. I know the import of that shit these days. Jobs don’t grow on mother fucking trees. Especially jobs that pay this well, even though it doesn’t pay as well as that one job I had.
I wrote on that story again today, that’s three days in a row on the same story. I tried to quit because it obviously has no point, no plot, nothing to say about life. But then I thought to myself, you better finish this god damn story or what the hell is left to you?
I thought, well, I’ll write a story, and I’ll use a plot from one of my favorite books and just write it with my characters, and it’ll be terrible but at least I’ll have finished a story with a plot. As I thought of my favorite books I couldn’t even think of what the plots were. Then I realized for the millionth time, fuck it. If the characters are real, and they really are just driving around in a car, then that shit has some interesting points worth reading about.
I don’t know man fuck it. And then I wasn’t even going to blog today because I was like shit maybe I am taking too much time blogging and not enough time writing this god damned story. But fuck it man shit what the fuck do I know?
Maybe all this shit about me not knowing shit is getting old. I should know something by now god damn it.
I have not felt sad today, either. I just did shit, just walked around existing for some reason.
Well, I guess the responsible thing to do would be to go to bed now. Plenty of time for fucking around in the future, and if I die, well I don’t have to worry about finishing this god damned story any more.