Hold On

I’m out already. Back in the comfort of the office. All is dark now and the light is on and it smells good and now I really am drinking whiskey and ginger ale, but the heat is still off. No sign of the AirBnB guest, except that the back door was unlocked and the extra set of keys were on the table. So far as I can tell he is fast asleep in his quarters.

Just before I left for work I watched the Alabama Shakes on YouTube. I’d never actually seen a video of theirs even though I listen to their album all the time. This video is a little different than the album version and it almost made me cry. And it got me through the day. That’s what art is all about!

GF is out with her friends, celebrating killing her first lobster at school. I am supposed to pick her up in a Zipcar when she’s done. I offered because one in five woman in the United States will be a victim of a crime and I want to keep her out of that. Don’t like her traveling home alone at night. She does it sometimes and it’s fine, but I’d rather her not if I can help it.

Supposed to be a busy day tomorrow. I’m working a double. But I’ll be home again at a decent hour. So strange, three days in a row. I kept thinking all day that today was Thursday. I was so sure of it. But anyway, strange, because I usually close tonight, tomorrow, the next night and the next, but I’m not even working Saturday, going home for Easter. Coworker left me two dollars from yesterday’s cash take. Weak.

At the wine tasting, no one gave the salesperson who was showing us the wine any respect. It was so weird. One guy was yawning and saying the wine was bad and another was interrupting her all the time saying she didn’t think that was right. It was so weird. One coworker said that they were probably acting this way because the wines were inexpensive, and last week were tasting Burgundy Grand Crus, so they were probably like yeah whatever. Well, shit, that’s pretty fucked up to disrespect someone just because of that. I mean shit our manager is the one who told her which wines to show.

But fuck it. Everyone is mean sometimes, sometimes you just got to Hold On.

Advertisements

Ohio Won’t Remember Me

Well I’ll be damned. Ya’ll are some irascible mother fuckers. God damn I love you crazy bastards.

And I use irascible in the street sense of course. Which means cool as shit.

Well I had myself a time writing that essay, and a better time reading your comments.

And there is just so much shit that I want to say right now, and I won’t get any of it done I know. Because it’s about Midnight and Ohio won’t remember shit. AKA GF is almost ready for bed and I still haven’t showered.

I wanted to talk about what I just ate and how damned good it was. And the work day with coworker. The coworker from the other posts. Everything turned out hunkey dorey with that red faced dude. Man, I like him actually. And I wanted to talk about how I been looking at Seth Godin all wrong. I been straight up talking a lot about that dude, in fact he’s about to rival Chuck Klosterman for most talked about dude on Anyone’s Ghost. But all my memories of what Seth Godin is talking about are all skewed because I read them like three or more years ago and I’m a whole different dude these days. And I wanted to talk about…something else too what was it. Oh how I totally lied to my coworker and he loved me for it.

In a perfect world I’ll have some time to write tomorrow. But the world ain’t perfect so we’ll just have to see.

But ho damn I just ate the most luxurious shit. Just walked through the door and had some roast duck and some squash soup GF made in class. Then I had some banana bread GF made at home. And I drank some Harpoon Winter Warmer. I feel so warm on the inside.

Burn Out

Alright maybe I’m experiencing some burn out. I can’t focus at the moment. I have all these things to do and I can’t tear myself away from the blog. Just writing writing writing and then reading reading reading reading reading reading reading reading. It’s great to read and write but I have other stuff I should be doing, too.

I’ll come back to my illustrious essay. I have to make dinner anyway. Asian food, says GF. I have no idea how to make Asian food.

Probably I’ve just been sitting down too long.

Reminds me of this time we were sitting around and the boss asked my coworker, “Is your friend coming in for an interview?”

“Who?”

“The one you said he was a burnout.”

“Burn out? I didn’t say he was a burn out. I never said he was a burn out!”

“Yes you did.”

“No I said he was a deadbeat.”

Complications

I get all excited to write this damn essay and then I start to do this research and momentum grinds to a mother fucking halt. Next thing you know I’m curled up on the kitchen floor with a week old half frozen muffin staring at the ceiling and hoping my cell phone won’t erupt out of the bedroom and start ringing in my face.

My coworker is calling me like thirty times in this bitch so he can ask me to work tonight because his friend’s only in town for tonight. Well god damn it. I never ask anyone to work for me and I deserve a day off, too god damn it. Just leave me alone, coworker. God damn it that’s why I didn’t want to make friends with everyone, which I ended up doing in the end because I can’t help it. I know I’m going to tell that mother fucker no I can’t come in and he’s going to want to have an argument about it. Merlin’s beard! Shit! Tell your friend to take a nap and ya’ll can hang out after work! The agony. I can’t answer the phone because if I do I know I’ll end up going in and I already told GF I wouldn’t. She hates when I have to go in on short notice. The worst part was I went into the bedroom to get the phone to see if she had texted me. She had so I started texting her back, but my phone if you type on it and someone calls, it doesn’t matter which button you push it answers, so he called and I pushed and we were connected. I hung up right away but now I’m sure he suspects some fucking chicanery out this bitch.

But that’s not why I ran out of momentum. That happened when I actually started collecting facts. I like just writing shit I don’t want to have to do actual work! Damn it! Shit!

Maybe I can only spontaneously create shit. Maybe I’m trying to force an organic process. Damn it. I’ve got to pull it together!

How did Joan Didion do it?

I guess you write it first and you fact check later. I don’t know. Shit.