A Lovely Day and NightFirst, an important announcement:
There will be no more horse cocks on this blog!They're just too long and pink and scary, even for me.
You may now emit sighs of gratitude.
Now for the entry:
7am: Woke. Asked self, "Why the hell I am up at 7am? Isn't this my bedtime?" Hit snooze button.
7:15am: Remembered job interview. Ah yes, important stuff. Got the hell out of bed, kicked the blankets back before they could grab my ankles. "Away, you fuzzy beasts!"
8am: Left house. Rode blue line to Loop, listening to Lovage and Portishead. Cloudy morning, good for acid jazz. Pretended I was on my way to school, like way back when.. a few months ago. I miss school. But only a little.
10am: Arrived at interview place on Michigan ave. An agency. Fuck. I fucking hate temp agencies. But the lady at the desk assured me it was a "permenant agency". Riiiight. Took tests, filled out forms. Had interview with job-placer-person. She was very kind, seemed to understand when I said, "I can't quite see myself in a corporate environment." Said she'd find me something more creative, or with a non-profit, didn't treat me like a frog in a fishbowl, like persons of authority tend to. She seemed to recognize my species: the scissor-tailed word catcher, lacking sufficient day job. She'll know where to place me. Though my long acrylic nails did knock at least 5wpm from my typing test score.
12pm: Financial office at school. I still have a tuition balance of $8,900-something. But that's okay because my dad, in a rare non-sociopathic gesture, said he'd co-sign a loan, so I can clear up the balance and get my slip of paper saying I'm a certified fiction writer. I've fucking earned it.
12:15pm: Visited nerd lab where I used to work. Admonished Jesus for sending me that horse-sex video link. Crawled down into "the fort" under the computer desk. All our pictures were still there: sailor sam, Johnny Cash, the smoking snail, the dog with testicles on its head.
3pm: After stopping home to change out of dorky interview clothes, arrived at the Skin Clown's house. We had pizza and chocolate cake and broke a frightening curse. Made offensive b-day card for Frank: picture of retarded kid with his arms out in a t-shape, glued to a picture of a cross. On the side I wrote OLDER THAN JESUS! (as in Christ, not the jesus who sent me the horse sex link). Frank was only turning 33, but SAME AGE AS JESUS! just didn't have the same ring to it.
10pm: Frank's party at Sheffield's. Drink specials. School friends. "Yes, yes, I'm still writing. Don't worry." Highlight of night: when Claire restrained Frank, using only a red shoelace.
12am: Clarke's with Claire, J9 and Soren. Ate veggie burger and fries. Caught up on stuff: stories, people, projects. Felt warm and glad.
1:30am: Tempted to stop by Neo. No. Bad plan. Too much drama there, these last few months. Instead, drove Soren home, then drove me home.
3am: My buzz from the beers has vanished. Will get enough sleep to wake up for work tomorrow.
I am a good girl.
Feels so good to stay out of trouble: No drinking till I barf. No having sex with people I don't like, or shouldn't like. No staying out until the sky is bright.
Feels like good surgery: like something filthy and destructive inside me has been sliced out with a scalpel. And now I am free to live calm, placid and productive.
But it's just not as juicy of a story.
|
