i was in a cubicle all day and it was a little bit better because i got to venture out every once in a while to pretend i was helping pull film clips. and then i called 400 places to beg for employment. and then i wrote down what i probably won't tell
you and scratched a love poem in my little notebook. and then i sat on the train and looked at strangers and thought about what makes me miserable and then the indian man at the health food store i asked for a job from held my hand for too long and the pimply kid behind the counter at the video store didn't know if they were hiring and then i saw a dead bird on the sidewalk and then i came home to my blind dog bumping into EVERYTHING. none of those things helped. and now i have to figure out what to eat for dinner.
maybe i should just write a memoir where i complain for 300 pages about the suburban doldrums. or the urban neurosis.
maybe i should just not take amphetamines anymore.
maybe i should just leave the country for 5 months in 3 months? the continent even? europe??? yep. that's being done.
maybe i should just be content because in time very due there will be cobblestones under my feet and a camera in front of my face and everything will start happening.
there is modern romance only in other countries. there. it's simple. see it?
1 comment:
actually, if i were in the position to choose i would hope for a girl that was made of nothing but HERSELF.
i love you too-- and you're more like that third option than anything else. that's what i like about you (hit song). you're real. :)
also, why did that health food guy hold your hand? weeeeirdo. don't get a job under him. ew, under.
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