(no subject)
some summer.
of course i'm tired, not of working, but of giving up literally entire days to two jobs that i fucking hate.
but then, even more so, i hated dealing with the same entity (collective of at least 11 other positions to which i've applied) of an Old White Man who only called me back for an interview for show only.
tonight a new red dodge ram stopped in front of me in the back driveway of cortana's walmart.
instead of maneuvering into the street and driving away, he felt the need to stop suddenly and slowly reverse into my car.
tra.la.la.
the outcome is that despite a heart-wrenching "CRUNCH" that actually made me scream "oh no motherfucker" and throw a rockstar can at the truck through my open window before getting out,...
no damage was to be seen, except for a small scratch in the same area of scratches that i myself made months before.
of course nothing was harmed on his truck.
so where did the mysterious crunch[headlights cracking] noise go to?
this is more proof that my car is somehow... blessed.
or that i'm just a fucking great driver.
i've had so many close calls. none of them my fault.
but somehow the Coupe has so far withstood and evaded them.
contrary to the incident above,
my soundtrack at the beginning of this summer's Workgasm'05 used to be 5 different versions of the foofighter's "everlong".
the edge soon wore off and i found myself falling asleep midday, driving along hwy 1 to go from one job to the next.
i'd awaken after running over medians or the built-in trench along the highway.
honestly, this happens every fucking day.
i don't fight it anymore and have instead only changed my soundtrack
to something more soothing and versatile.
passing trains are now my favorite treat, allowing me a few extra minutes of sleep.
whether it's:
-2:17am insomniac trips to the furthest wal-mart i can handle.
-or, like today, driving through severe afternoon thunderstorms just to shop and dumbly sit outdoors in wooded recreational areas(current definition of vacation)
listening to "porcelina" or hearing etta james admit that temptation was flowing like wine
is perfect in either occasion.
though it makes me bitter nostalgic for those recent days where certain things still flowed like fucking wine in my own life.
work at 6am, home for 10pm.
consecutive days.
i'm so impossibly exhausted. what?
luckily, no one has actually added this journal.
of course i'm tired, not of working, but of giving up literally entire days to two jobs that i fucking hate.
but then, even more so, i hated dealing with the same entity (collective of at least 11 other positions to which i've applied) of an Old White Man who only called me back for an interview for show only.
tonight a new red dodge ram stopped in front of me in the back driveway of cortana's walmart.
instead of maneuvering into the street and driving away, he felt the need to stop suddenly and slowly reverse into my car.
tra.la.la.
the outcome is that despite a heart-wrenching "CRUNCH" that actually made me scream "oh no motherfucker" and throw a rockstar can at the truck through my open window before getting out,...
no damage was to be seen, except for a small scratch in the same area of scratches that i myself made months before.
of course nothing was harmed on his truck.
so where did the mysterious crunch[headlights cracking] noise go to?
this is more proof that my car is somehow... blessed.
or that i'm just a fucking great driver.
i've had so many close calls. none of them my fault.
but somehow the Coupe has so far withstood and evaded them.
contrary to the incident above,
my soundtrack at the beginning of this summer's Workgasm'05 used to be 5 different versions of the foofighter's "everlong".
the edge soon wore off and i found myself falling asleep midday, driving along hwy 1 to go from one job to the next.
i'd awaken after running over medians or the built-in trench along the highway.
honestly, this happens every fucking day.
i don't fight it anymore and have instead only changed my soundtrack
to something more soothing and versatile.
passing trains are now my favorite treat, allowing me a few extra minutes of sleep.
whether it's:
-2:17am insomniac trips to the furthest wal-mart i can handle.
-or, like today, driving through severe afternoon thunderstorms just to shop and dumbly sit outdoors in wooded recreational areas(current definition of vacation)
listening to "porcelina" or hearing etta james admit that temptation was flowing like wine
is perfect in either occasion.
though it makes me bitter nostalgic for those recent days where certain things still flowed like fucking wine in my own life.
work at 6am, home for 10pm.
consecutive days.
i'm so impossibly exhausted. what?
luckily, no one has actually added this journal.