Did I survive my trip to New Orleans or not?\u00a0 Hard to tell.\u00a0 Especially when a delayed plane lands me with only three hours to spare before my nasty 12 hour shift at my retarded day job. Then, dragging myself home after that first day back, encountering an old friend at my front door who’s ripped on weed and wine and demands an insane evening that lasts till 4am.\u00a0 (I could have said no, but I’m a weak man.)<\/p>\n
It all feels like a weird dream at this point.\u00a0 Certainly, my bed seems like some lost fantasy land.<\/p>\n
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Of course, now I’m in the habit of updating GS, so I’m sitting here at work watching the clock and thinking, hey, I should write something.\u00a0 Like an ode to soft pillows, and not having to wake up in the morning.\u00a0 I’m putting everything off, though. I’ve taken a personal day Friday, so I just have to survive the rest of today, and a 12 hour shift Thursday, then I can…spend three days catching up on book publishing nonsense.\u00a0 Because the perfect way to recover from exhaustion is repetitive motion syndrome!<\/p>\n
Stuff envelopes…print fliers…write wheedling emails to review people.\u00a0 Hiiii!\u00a0 Did you get the boooook??!\u00a0 OH GOD! THE VOICES ARE BACK!<\/p>\n
A rare weekday off means phone calls, too!\u00a0 I have lots of people to call.\u00a0 Like my grandfather who, at last report, went insane and bought a house and land.\u00a0 Nobody knows where the money’s coming from, but he’s living large now.<\/p>\n
His last communication was with my uncle, where he called up and screamed, “What’s bigger than a doublewide but just as cheap? A house!” Then he hung up.\u00a0 I received an early AM voicemail shortly before where he was talking about furniture:\u00a0 “All a man needs is a chair and a microwave.\u00a0 And maybe you can help me renew my Netflix subscription?”<\/p>\n
A house means I’ll have to hear the old There’s no excuse for not visiting thing.\u00a0 No…it’s the same excuse.\u00a0 You’re 350 miles away.\u00a0 And I’m really busy lying on the floor of my kitchen talking to vodka wraiths, which is my only response to life when I work seven days a week.\u00a0 I can’t wait till winter, when my seasonal weekend job stops dead for three months.\u00a0 Then I can sit out on the porch, shivering, and pretend that I’m free.\u00a0\u00a0 And probably still talk to vodka wraiths, because I’ve been talking to myself quite a bit lately.\u00a0 Which is a great way to get a seat to yourself on the train, so I plan to keep it up.\u00a0 Maybe develop a few new personalities.\u00a0 “No, Roger!\u00a0 Give me back my bag of urine!” twitch<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Did I survive my trip to New Orleans or not?\u00a0 Hard to tell.\u00a0 Especially when a delayed plane lands me with only three hours to spare before my nasty 12 hour shift at my retarded day job. Then, dragging myself …<\/p>\n