Ring-finger Tears

Wednesday's been lost to time, there's no way I can remember it now. Thursday was nothing too special, it's just been a slow re-glazing. I took some medicine around 3 a.m., and didn't wake up until around 11. I didn't go to my chemistry exam, since I will be withdrawing from it next week. It's not feeling so right any more, and that blurriness is growing and clouding more than ever. There's almost no will left, no pulsing flowers at all.

I went to my counseling appointment today. Sitting in the waiting room Jess walked in, that beautiful silly girl. We talked a little bit, about work. I wondered what she was doing there... she couldn't have been seeing a counsellor, she's got too much good in her for that. Too much good can hurt though, can it not? It's like too much sugar or too much love, too much trust and too much feeling. It overwhelms I suppose.

I met with Dr. Pyati, and talked for an hour. I suppose I did a lot of talking, and was able to get just about everything that I could out. It is important to me, because I don't want to forget these things. They'll never disappear until I make them, and if I forget then I'll never be able to get rid of them. They'll lurk in the webs and the dust, the haze and the fog of a mind clouded by illusions. I actually teared up, something I did not expect at all and it really didn't make any sense. And it didn't have a thing to do with me, only everything to do with my mum and dad. Just everything I wanted for them that they may never get.

Dr. Pyati tried to hug me I think, as I got ready to leave, but I just put out my hand a shook it. I don't know why I did that, but it worries me a bit. On my way out I think I overheard something along the lines of "me and Jess made a lot of progress" though who knows except them exactly what that means.

I went to the library and took out my film book and went to film class. I talked to Kaitlyn a bit, and also to some of the other kids about Citizen Kane. Was it a story about nothing? Is Casablanca really that much better? We'll see, we'll see. Rosebud is a vagina's name afterall.

I went to the lagoon and smoked, talked to my mum briefly and then went home. Got ready for work and went to the cafe. I finally have closing perfected, and should be pretty well off from now on. I still haven't got everything at the gym wrapped up, my managers seem to have been ignoring me. We'll see about that, huh? This is about the only thing that kicks me inside, and it's not what I want to do that. I want it to kick itself, I want to be the one that motivates myself. Not them, not those dirty rotten half filled scoudrels.

Maybe I'll sleep tonight, probably I won't. I'm not doing a thing for Halloween.

Rosebud Glowing

I swallowed a handful of frostbitten butterflies to knot my stomach around itself to sympathize with the near headless Canadian goose. That's the wiring you find yourself in after too many sleepless days.

It was impossible, that's for sure. My heart felt ready to burst from betrayal. Work has been screwing me out of hours, and after waiting at the library until seven I went to the gym. I waited there, brooding and ready to make myself heard very clearly for the first time. Nobody showed up, so I went to the cafe and got some espresso shots, smoked a handful of cigarettes and felt ill with frustration. Kaitlyn and I talked since it was slow and she didn't have many customers. Turns out she's an English major, and that she's taking a film class with Prof. Spadoni. I went back to the gym, and Sarah was there. She handed me an email in reply to what I had sent the night before. She walked me into her office, and told me she was going to let me go. Yeah. Good luck with that. I went straight to the student employment office and met with a lady there who I showed the email to. She agreed fully that it was illegal what they were trying to pull, those slippery slabs. She told me to make sure I got copies of my time cards. I went out trembling a little, from anticipation and anxiety.

I called my uncle to vent a little, and he was as angry as I was. I'm glad he really does love me, even though we never really have had a relationship.

I went to the cafe and studied math and but mostly talked to Kaitlyn and Eileen. They're good folks, you can't complain. They helped me feel better; well talking to anybody was going to help. The clouds were low and swift below a painted white sky. The sun plowed through every now and then blistering the walls with a pale orange. Eventually I went to the park to smoke another handful, and sat next to the willow there. As I left I pressed my cheek against it, hoping for a balance. I walked past the dying goose. I went through the library, and then started walking back towards the gym. I called Garrett, and we talked about all this piss in the world. They were in a meeting, so I couldn't get my timecard yet. I went a took my math quiz. Walked briskly back to the gym, and got the timecard this time. I saw their offices for the first time, decked out in fine furniture and wall panels. Make or break your loose hams. I dropped off the timecard copies to student employment and then went to the library to read before film.

I walked into film class and saw Kaitlyn. We've had class together since the beginning of the semester and I never noticed her; I felt like a total idiot. She has a light amber tone that gives her a little fire, but talks meekly and innocently enough. We'll see.

After that I came home and drifted in and out of insanity until seven. I found myself watching Citizen Kane in the bottom of the library. I had always put off seeing it, and I'm glad I did. It was beyond brilliant, Charlie. We'll all love you for you, you Rosebud you. We were your statues, your collection, we were your world.

I've taken an ambien because it's long overdue. I need to sleep, I need to see that glowing dust.

Bitch Gotta Get Beat

The northern prairie path is lined by bare white trees, stretching straight into the sky over a long dip and an even longer hill that just keeps running up and away. My feet run with it and over the next hill the burly voice beckons for me to come ever swifter, to just throw myself into its arms. It's twilight and the place seems stuck in a small town post-apocalypse, our everyday lives only evidenced by the inanimate objects waiting to be played with. The ghosts haunt these corners and I feel them, but they are nothing more than mist in the early morning fog.

There's a synthetic mind ready to snap placed between darting eyes and deafening ears, a numb tongue from too much raw smoke, too many raw words. It has snowed today and it's been a couple days since I last checked in. And trust me, I haven't been sure if I'd be checking in again. This mind is too close to the brink of what one can take-in at once.

My mum has shingles, which she says can be very serious. It's gotten colder lately, and I've been preoccupied by tremendously ambitious plans for the next eight months. I confessed the last year to her, just everything that has changed in me and everything that I want to change. I'm not going to give up this time, I'm going to see it through to whatever end it takes me. It's either going to push me over the edge where I"ll fall or fly, or I'll merely recede back into the mediocrity that has been my existence since long before I can remember. But I would jump into oblivion in a heartbeat rather than go back to what I was before.

In other less profound news, I've been having real issues at work. My manager has been screwing me out of all that time I spend past close doing inventory, cleaning, and closing the register. I'm really gonna show that bitch what's been coming her way a long time now. We're all very good employees, couldn't ask for a finer bunch. There's no reason we should be treated this way. Bitch is gonna get beat.

Stretched Between Longs Shots

It's interesting that I can fall asleep in two minutes at the library, yet just that same night, half an hour later, I cannot fall asleep in my own bed. I'm sure it's not the Hookah Bar beats, I didn't get home until five thirty and the bar closes at two. I awoke at eight and went straight to the library to finish writing my film paper. By eleven thirty I had finished half the paper but I had to run to work. I got to work and Kelsey was there. She hung around for a couple minutes and we chatted a bit. Finally she got ready to go. She had a real cute scarf over a bright superman-blue shirt. She said she had gotten it from Spain, figured. Eileen and Melissa were there, and work hardly felt like work. I'm not sure if it's because I've just started working there, but working at the gym really pales in comparison. But maybe it's because it's going on a year since I started. A year beginning next week I have a feeling. It was after my trip to NYC during fall break last year that I decided to just really get the job. I went in for the interview, lied about my job experience (I had none) and nailed it. One year later and only Mel is left among the student employees. Damn, they just all left. I think I'm finally accepting why. It's not that great a job. Can't sit, can't read, can't rest. Just clean, shake, and repeat. You can't just keep a car running, it has to shut off eventually.

After work I ran back to the library and finished up my paper. Both printers were occupied and I was running late. As I darted between printers trying to find an opening I saw Kate, and she and I chuckled at my frantic behavior. Finally I asked a kid if I could cut in line and quickly print my paper and he graciously said yes. Thank you, stranger. Film class was difficult. I didn't do too well on the midterm, and it turned out I had confused the extreme long shot with the long shot. I embarrassed myself by talking so much in class, and I still get a strong feeling Profs. Spadoni doesn't like me. It's not my fault I couldn't afford your book this semester. It's not my fault my apartment was robbed over the summer. It's not my fualt my family doesn't have any money. It's my fault I didn't have the guts to steal a copy of the book from the bookstore at the beginning of the semester. I can't steal anything worth more than a nickel. I just can't do it, dammit.

After class I just walked home, played a little guitar and killed the night. I don't have the will to do anything else anymore. I just don't have any will left sometimes. Only a dusting of will grows on my eyelids like a white mold. What can ya' say.

My dad arrived and we ate dinner. I haven't eaten this much in weeks, a whole bowl of food? I'd only had two corn chips and a handful of coffee drinks over last twenty four hours, but what can ya' do. I talked to Erika a little tonight, she seems like she's definitely changed. I wish I could see what she is like now, I wonder if she's any more mature. I wonder if she's still the same girl I travelled with last spring. Bizarre the way things have turned out. Out of all the people at Corcoran I would have kept in touch with, she is the last one I ever would have expected.

I smoked too many Lucky's today, but when they only last one block what do you expect. What do ya' expect.

Spilled Almond Oil

Woke around 8 and got ready for class. I think. It's a let down that I can't even remember what I was doing just twenty hours ago. I think it says something about my perception of time - I have too many thoughts crammed into such short periods.

I went to math, and learned that we were studying matrices. The Jewish girl who sits next to me is real funny, I don't know why. She doesn't even say anything or do anything and I find her interesting. Maybe it's because she's one of the only peopleI have had the pleasure of sitting so damn close to in months.

After class I went home, and prepared to go get a new student I.D. and didn't expect to be home a little before work at 6. I went to Access Services, but was $15 shy of what it took to get a new card, so I went to the library and watched Raise the Red Lantern until I found a scene to write about. I found it. I didn'ta go to the library though, maybe I went home first and got money to go get a new I.D. I think I must have, because I wasn't allowed to take out any materials from the library without my I.D. Yeah, it must have been the latter way. Fast forward to Chemistry, and I found myself laughing when Dr. Kenney said something to the extent that Quantum Mechanics was easy. It was ironic because last night I watched a documentary that really pounded in the point that nobody can explain Quantum Mechanics. I just couldn't keep from laughing out loud for about a minute. I kept looking back at Kelsey, it seemed like she was sitting alone. I think I'll go sit with her next class, because I have a strong feeling we could talk and I might actually make a friend. Huzzah.

After class I went back to the library, and took even more detailed notes about the scene I had chosen, because I wasn't going to be able to watch it again until the next morning and needed the material. Otherwise I would have nothing to write about. Kind of like trying to bullshit your way through an essay about Classical Continuity vs. Soviet Montage, when the only images such words conjure are stringed instruments with abnormally long necks vs. factory commies with film cameras in one hand and scythes in the other while they electrocute an elephant till its skin sizzles black and white.

I had to close at the cafe all on my own tonight. When I first got there nobody could be seen working, just the sign saying that "be back". Turns out she was having a conversation about neurons and creative cognitive functions. Interesting stuff. Christina, at least I believe that's her name, came in and we talked about how insanely difficult Chemistry was. Turns out she transferred to Case from NYU. My figurative jaw dropped, because if there's anywhere I wish I could have gone, NYU might have been it. I would still like to, because I feel like I might be a good fit in that type of program. Film and writing and all that jazz. She's a sophomore too it turns out, and I think she has a real good look to her. Premed. I ended the conversation though when I asked what she would like, and she just got a refill. Fuck me. I ended up being a little late closing, and didn't leave until 10:20. Walked home with Melissa while smoking a lucky.

That's what I forgot, I had gone to little Italy to buy some cigarettes. I know I was going to try and quit this week, but come on - that coming from the world's biggest procrastinator? I was real easily duped into buying a pack of Lucky's, the shortest cigarette's I've ever seen. Yeah I bet they sell like rockets, Ms. Cigarilla.

I got home and tried to do my Chemistry homework, but only got halfway through. Then my dad tried solving the problem I stopped at, and he didn't finish for an hour. A PHD Chemist, and it took him an hour. Jesus, I didn't stand a chance. While he toiled away I went outside and talked to Garrett. I smoked another lucky, and we talked about going to Calgary and North Carolina, or how I wanted to go to Calgary and he wanted to go to North Carolina. I found my words and ideas came out a little easier than they have since the spring, and I liked it. It was the closest I've felt to how I did in the spring since, well, since the spring.

I realized I was never going to write my paper at the apartment, So I went to the library. That's where I am now, and that's where I'm going to be tonight. Now I can start.

Glamorous Reconciliation

No need for clever beginnings. I somehow managed to fall asleep around six this morning, and slept until 9 o'clock. An entire sleep cycle. Then I... I killed the morning and the afternoon. I played some guitar and didn't even consider going outside. It was the last day of fall break and it was overcast. At least I think it was. I hadn't even bothered cracking a single shade open to look out, but there were no yellow glints and there was no tender warmth in the light. Just a pale light, limp and with a lick cold and clammy.

I watched some porn around one because sometimes it motivates me. Some people watch porn for pleasure, but whenever I look through it I look for the complete amateurs and I search their faces. Their flat faces on the screen with looks of indifference or botoxed seduction, bad acts at being sexy. Pouted lips and wide smiles, wide mouths and wide lips. It's hard for me to reconcile their motivation for life. It's hard for me to reconcile my own. I make the same faces as them, indifferent and wide pulled up by strings attached to ideals held on high. Nothing but show for a melted candle-wax audience.

I found some motivation, and took a shower.

Late afternoon brought with it a few rays through dramatic clouds so I got ready to go out and planned on not going to little Italy and buying cigarettes and then smoking a cigarette on my way to the library, where I was going to finish finding a scene to write my film paper on and then feel accomplished and have an excuse to smoke another one. But my plans don't quite matter.

A strange number began vibrating at quarter after four and it turned out to be Melissa. I hadn't received a schedule this week for work at the cafe yet, and it so happened that indeed the cafe was open during fall break, and I was scheduled to work it that late afternoon. Wouldn't ya know. I probably could have gotten out of it but went in. I didn't have to not buy those cigarettes, and I wouldn't have to go to the library. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's procrastination. At work I even told Melissa about the problem I had with my I.D. and the paper I had yet to begin, and she tried to convince me to go do it. The irony in that situation is brighter than suns blazing in hilltop fields outside of Pittsburgh.

There wasn't really anything to do at work except begin closing for the night. Melissa and I talked about films and music, I told her about Fear(s) of the Dark and Synecdoche, New York. The sky had become very dramatic in the early evening, almost like nature liked to fool me. The most beautiful scenes seem to only come when I have to work. What a farce.

A man in a red bandanna came and asked for a cup of water then heard Melissa and I discussing music and the record industry. He came up and said that our intellectual conversation intrigued him and he wanted to join in. At first I thought he might've been quite sincere (and he was), except it was small chat, and nothing too deep. He was clearly swimming in cloud nine, having quite a trip for himself. He talked about playing the saxophone as a kid, and how his uncle played the keyboard. He then proceeded to go stand outside and sip from his cup, before wiping the bandanna from his head to the ground. He proceeded to the other side of the patio and dumped the contents of the cup over his head. I have a feeling the cup was empty as he did this. He then walked towards the parking lot and disappeared, leaving his red bandanna on the ground. Melissa was a little crept out, and I thought it was something I might have done. It seemed exactly like something I would have done.

Eventually Katie came in and we left. I didn't bum a cigarette off Melissa and then we both walked and smoked. I told her I found comfort in smoking cigarettes because I knew they would kill me. I didn't tell her that this certainty was a constant I could believe in. It's funny when death is the only thing that keeps you on your feet. I talked a lot, more than I had with any peer in-person for a while. I think I talked about films. It was bizarre.

I got home and killed some time. My mum called and we talked more than we had in perhaps a year. More than an hour and a half. What's wrong with me, I never talk this much to anybody.

My dad got home, and we argued about school, how I won't buy books for my classes, how I was screwed because of my skewed miserly habits. It's hard for me to reconcile spending money on myself. It's hard for me to reconcile how to spend my life, whether it's best to spend it quickly or to spend it glamorously.

Caveman Ideologies

It's hard for me to draw anything but a blank these days. A pause for three seconds and my train of thought derails. My eyes flicker and it's hard to focus on or control the boundaries of anything.

Today I didn't have to work until 4:00. I killed the morning and early afternoon. I practiced a song I've been fiddling with, it's better than the last one. They've all been a little bit better than the last one. It's been the one surprisingly constant progression out of my many endeavors and many less successes. I always get worse at things the more I practice, I can't explain it. But it's been one of the most discouraging aspects of bothering to try and learn a single thing.

I left in the early afternoon to deposit money in the bank for my dad, and then I wandered around a bit before deciding to kill the rest of the afternoon in the park. There were a lot of people at the park even though it was a Monday. But it was a warm and sunny Monday, something we haven't had in a week or two. I began to circle around the park because I couldn't find any place to sit and smoke my cigarette. On the other side of the lagoon a large Willow tree had one of it's three trunks sawed to it's hollow core. The core even had some bark twisted in a spiral from the outside so that it appeared to be facing the wrong direction - like a mouth that breathed from the lungs. I climbed the Willow and sat on it's lowest branch, but was still about 10 feet up. I smoked half a broken cigarette after dropping my last full cigarette while climbing. Eventually I climbed back down to retrieve it, but not before eating an apple and trying to tell myself I didn't want to smoke the cigarette then.

I lounged in the Willow tree for about an hour, then went to the library and retrieved my three books from my hiding place behind giant reference books for subjects nobody is likely to pander with. I started hiding them about a month ago, when I had a library fine that I didn't want to pay off. I've had to pay the fine down to $15.00 because my film class required I take out films only available in the library to view. I wish I had more freedom at the library with the materials they offer. All the interesting stuff seems to be missing, on reserve, or require assistance to even retrieve. I just want to get it myself and return it in two weeks. Or two months if my fines are any indication. I still can't withdraw books because I lost my student I.D. and am too cheap to buy a new one until it becomes an essential.

I read for half an hour and then stowed my books back and walked to work. Tessie talked to me for half an hour when I first got there, because she had taken the early bus and didn't have to work until five. I like that she will not stand for attitude of any sort, she's tough, and she'll survive well. Tessie talked about her cousin's baby shower, about a three year old who cussed and said she had a huge ass. Kids love to point out the truth, and the naughty ones love it when it hurts. It's because children haven't had time to adapt to society's morals. All things fair, they would all learn. We all would. Tessie also told me Lauren was badmouthing me. It's funny though, because it's always been the kids I do not talk to who despise me. I know my voice is nasal, annoying, and I try not to think about it. I suppose that's been my biggest disadvantage. They say voice determines more than 90% of an impression based on appearances. Body language the other 10%. I'm not terribly gifted in either. Finally, Tessie joked that her husband bought her a vibrator, after she gave him chocolates and something else more along the lines of an anniversary gift. At least I'm assuming it was an anniversary; at work too many words get lost. I just can't seem to hear people.

Work was too long, I worked forty-five minutes over schedule. Maybe it won't be too bad this week, since I probably won't have too many hours at the Cafe since Monday and Tuesday are campus holidays. Walking home from work I thought back to my theater class, about those exercises we did where we walked around the room as fast as we could trying to keep eye contact with one another. I thought about how I used to stare at strangers on campus to practice eye contact. There isn't anything wrong with it, but we don't seem to like it. Then I saw a girl in the middle of my hospital shortcut outside, sitting on a wall holding what looked like a rose wrapped in plastic. I stared at her, not feeling like I could bother to remove my gaze. She was a little plump, probably fat, but she noticed me staring and raised her left hand with flower in hand, almost a wave; I grinned. As I walked closer and passed by she said "Hello!" and I said back "Nice flower". Something like that at least. I'm a jack-ass like that, I have trouble moving conversations along. Even the briefest of encounters can't seem to be quite as brief as I'd like.

I arrived home around nine, and my dad got home a little bit after that. I didn't have any cigarette's to smoke tonight, and don't know if I'll buy any tomorrow. I gave up trying to sleep, partly because I was trying to edit a few more photos, and mostly because I suck at sleeping. I suck at trying to sleep, and I blow at even considering making the attempt.

I played guitar, talked to my dad about ideologies and their illogical nature. Processes of evolution both biological and social, the Caveman Diet, and why I'm wrong about future human evolution favoring the liars.

Not that I can be convinced matters beyond two minutes from now are even worth pondering. I haven't decided yet, but probably should. Maybe I'll wait a couple of minutes.

It's too late to get any sleep tonight, too late to get a full night of rest. I wish I could just sleep.

Finite Grey Ash

This nihilistic illusion didn't sleep last night. By the time I realized I wasn't going to sleep, it was too late to take another Ambien. I shuffled between my two room apartment, brewed green tea infusions and played guitar. I even caught the dawn before he caught me, and I shared a cup of tea and a cigarette on the stairwell with him. I don't know how those hours passed so quickly.

The sun rose and I opened all the shades, letting through the brightest light I've seen in a long time. It was bizarre when I got up after what seemed an endless dawn and just saw all the dust in the room flicker and pop everywhere I looked. Seeing stars, hallucinations from an Ambien that maybe got stuck between my mouth and my stomach. What a shame they didn't stay.

My manager at the cafe called around nine, asked me to come in a little earlier. This was exciting because my dad wanted to go to a park reserve near Pittsburgh, and wanted to leave as soon as possible. I took my first shower in probably too many days and left for work at ten, wearing too many clothes again. Smoked a cigarette and ate my apple, big and bruised. I cleaned the sinks at work, mopped the floor, and restocked cans of soda. Then I left. All that took an hour and a half. Pretty sure it wasn't worth it, but hopefully it gave my managers a good impression. Yeah.

I got home at noon expecting my dad to be waiting for me to leave, but he was still trying to figure out exactly which park near Pittsburgh we would go to. I'm not quite sure why he had his mind set on Pennsylvania, but he did. It was the first beautiful day in a week or two, and he wanted to make the most of his day off, first in a week or two. We ended up leaving around one, and boy does Pennsylvania seem dirtier than I remember. It looks like the country, but doesn't feel like it at all. Along the way we stopped by a farm that may have looked like one, but didn't feel like one at all. We bought a very large basket of some honey sweet good 'um no worms in here apples. Finally we got to the park. We ended up driving along unpaved roads and finally parked. It was cold and the sun was closing in on the hills fast. It was the silence pecked only by startled chipmunk shrieks that I found relaxing. A relaxing moment, even if it wasn't genuine, is what I have wanted for a while. But those don't last.

We walked along the past-peak foliage yellow beneath our feet, down in the gullies and along the hills. The dips between the hills were lined on one side with yellow old men, the other with ghosted grey arms waving in a smokey mist. I have some photos I will add tomorrow.





We drove to the other side of the park and up the top most hill, blinded by the sun too bright. Finally we drove down, down to the dammed up river, now a lake with a small rectangle beach and a lawn. Big and bushy.

I ended up driving most of the way home, the first time I've driven in a month, maybe more. And what a drive to shake you up, the winding roads and hidden craggle-ways of Pennsylvania's square side.

I saw some funny gas stations, a rainbow in the sun, and red skies under flourescence. Talked with my dad about my nihilistic leeching tendancies, and got a feeling too deep in my heart. Something too deep that I just want off. It was even colder tonight, and smoking my last cigarette of the day I talked to Chelsea. My black jacket and brown boots and grey cap leaked down the black rusted stairs. I tried calling Erika, but she still ain't around. Monster took a shit in the mudroom, that bitch.

The universe is either infinite and I will exist and not exist forever many times, or it's finite. I can't decide if that matters.

Slow Days

It was a long day.

Last night I took half an Ambien, but it didn't put me to sleep for an hour or two, might as well have saved the whole pill for tonight. Only three and a half left, with doubts about getting a prescription refill. It helped today, though, because I was able to sleep until 11:30 and had to leave for work at 12. Only half an hour to kill. I didn't want to be up in the morning because it's fall break and there's nothing to do. It probably doesn't matter that it's fall break though.

It was cold walking to the gym, and even though I wore a scarf and jacket, my hands and legs were freezing and everything else was just too warm. I hate how my body heat refuses to dissipate according to where I wish it would. They were finally paving Adelbert, large steam rollers and dump trucks, fresh tar wafting in the cold city air. Work was a swell waste of time, Jenn was there so I was able to talk to her a bit. It's hard though, chatting from across the room, one desk to another. So many words get lost between.

The lady who gets the shakes her way came, calling before to check how late we were open. She can't seem to remember. It's 4:30 missy, on the weekends. I get this awkward feeling these days when she comes, she kind of looks at me as I make her shake, looks at me as I try to remember what she gets. Doesn't really say anything except 'yup' when I double check an ingredient with her. She used to have that Burberry hat, I liked it. Now she only wears dark sweatshirts, and she feels cold towards me. Not indignant, resentful. Resentful that she has to fork over $7.50 for her shake. I only make it the way you like it: vanilla soy milk, one heaping scoop of blueberries, two scoops of burn-fat, three scoops of green tea, three scoops of protein, two cap fulls of flax seed oil. Flax seed oil is worse than most oils, it will never wash out of the fridge, never comes off the bottle.

Still have to do inventory, still not able to enter the time after closing that I work. Frustrating, but I made $8.00 in tips. Maybe it was $7.00. It's only an hour and a half per week. Six hours a month. $50.00. Change that won't change my present circumstance. What the fuck, $50.00 would let me buy a whole three grams of drugs online, shipped priority to my doorstep. That would last me a week, a warm decadent over-stuffed numb pristine week. Oh, well. My tips can cover that.

As I walked out the door Shannon said, "A little overdressed..." and I tried to smile and nod but those gestures always get lost between closing doorways.

At home my dad wouldn't be arriving for an hour. Killed that. We went to Shaker Square and as we drove through I noticed a restaurant named Sergios. Had the same logo as the Sergios that's two blocks away from my apartment. I asked my dad if it was part of a chain. He didn't seem sure. We ended up parking and walked past Sergios. He walked in. I didn't know that we were going to eat there. Turns out it has a Brazilian menu, I always thought it was Italian. I ordered one of the few vegetarian items which was a nice surprise. It had beans and rice, crisped spinach and a salsa, green beans and cauliflower, onion rings and carrots. Because it was our first time there, the waiter even gave us free fried avocado slices as an appetizer. While we were waiting for the check, I told me dad about the Brazilian student I had met at work today. He had a little uni brow, spoke English with pauses, and liked the blueberry shake. I accidentally poured too much sugar into it, I wonder if it was too sweet for him.

My dad dropped me off before he went dancing, right in front of the dumpster. It was Erika's birthday and I needed to call her, so I went outside and smoked a cigarette on the uppermost stairwell. The man who works at the art museum was smoking a cigarette there too, so I talked to him for a while. He had a parka jacket on, and I was wearing my black sweatshirt underneath my black corduroy jacket with no buttons. We talked a little bit about money and living in Indian monasteries for $2.00 a day, shifting men's fashions (schism between Old Navy and H&M) and how to make a good breathing pair of boots out of squirrel skins. You probably sweat a cup of water from your feet a day, and probably don't sweat two gallons when you sleep in your bed at night.

Emily eventually called, we talked briefly then I told her I had to go. I smoked another cigarette and called Erika. She lost her signal or her phone died, can't decide which was most likely. She and Chelsea were going to the haunted house we had all gone to together two years ago. My life has grown and shrunk a whole little bit since then, I'm not sure of what to make of it still.

My dad has gotten back now.