No War But
I feel a little bit pathetic when I declare that my only worries for today will be finding a better wall hanger for my framed portrait of Little Big Man--an Original Insurgent--and then besides that, getting high all day and watching LOST. There's a little bit in the expression of intent that makes me cringe, abated mostly because it's my Sunday, and it's overcast today and hopefully set for rain. (The forecast has long called for rain, so I have ceased watering my wildflower patch, only for it not to rain, and thus I've been duped by both nature and man.)
Frustrations in the social sphere. Anxieties about branching out. Silence as rejection. Isolation on my day off. Maybe I should go to a bookstore... catch up on X-Men comics, and I could shave, too. I'm getting a little scruffy.
Is the Senate GOP actually going to try to filibuster financial regulatory reform? Really? Are they going to sell to the American people the notion that the uber-rich have every right in the world to continue holding our system hostage for their own purses? Is that what sells in an election year? I swear to God, if it sells, I'm done. I'm going to go postal. I've been keeping a distance from the machinations of the political machines as a means of maintaining my cracking sanity from full blown fracture. I deleted my Twitter account. I haven't watched Charlie Rose in a long while, and the only time I ever even look at the Old Grey Lady, it's because it's beside the customer service desk at Whole Foods, and I have to sign something up there every time I transfer some food product from the grocery department to the prepared foods department. I get above-the-fold headlines, it's all Greek to me, and fine, you know?--back to shoving those chickens on the rotisserie spit.
But are you really going to filibuster financial regulatory reform, Mitch McConnell? (Is it really going to be like that, Voinovich? You're going to go along with that, oh Moderate One? Judd Gregg? You're cool with it? Corker, you horse's ass? Ye two from Maine? McCain?) Is that the way you make a better America? A more secure America? There's just no way.
Mike's going to say something about me to his boss. I'll probably end up working something like eight days in a row at Whole Foods this week. Looking forward to that. Or I'll have been put back onto the shittiest, most anti-social work schedule known to man. Good luck hanging out on Monday and Tuesday, when real people are trying to start their weeks off right, with eight hours of sleep and attention to detail. Maybe I'll insulate some more, and just focus on being productive around the house. There are Polaroids to frame and put up on the wall! There are garden boxes to make! A compost bin to construct! A phone number that just doesn't return my calls. What the fuck is this shit?
It's a good thing it's overcast today. It's a good thing I'm off. It's a good thing Zach ran one last errand for me before he was kidnapped--and so I've got plenty of reserves, and I am going to burn through them like Los Angeles wildfire, for I have worked myself into a bedridden tornado of populist aggravation, and until I get onto a real healthcare plan, self-medicating is the best I can do.
Frustrations in the social sphere. Anxieties about branching out. Silence as rejection. Isolation on my day off. Maybe I should go to a bookstore... catch up on X-Men comics, and I could shave, too. I'm getting a little scruffy.
Is the Senate GOP actually going to try to filibuster financial regulatory reform? Really? Are they going to sell to the American people the notion that the uber-rich have every right in the world to continue holding our system hostage for their own purses? Is that what sells in an election year? I swear to God, if it sells, I'm done. I'm going to go postal. I've been keeping a distance from the machinations of the political machines as a means of maintaining my cracking sanity from full blown fracture. I deleted my Twitter account. I haven't watched Charlie Rose in a long while, and the only time I ever even look at the Old Grey Lady, it's because it's beside the customer service desk at Whole Foods, and I have to sign something up there every time I transfer some food product from the grocery department to the prepared foods department. I get above-the-fold headlines, it's all Greek to me, and fine, you know?--back to shoving those chickens on the rotisserie spit.
But are you really going to filibuster financial regulatory reform, Mitch McConnell? (Is it really going to be like that, Voinovich? You're going to go along with that, oh Moderate One? Judd Gregg? You're cool with it? Corker, you horse's ass? Ye two from Maine? McCain?) Is that the way you make a better America? A more secure America? There's just no way.
Mike's going to say something about me to his boss. I'll probably end up working something like eight days in a row at Whole Foods this week. Looking forward to that. Or I'll have been put back onto the shittiest, most anti-social work schedule known to man. Good luck hanging out on Monday and Tuesday, when real people are trying to start their weeks off right, with eight hours of sleep and attention to detail. Maybe I'll insulate some more, and just focus on being productive around the house. There are Polaroids to frame and put up on the wall! There are garden boxes to make! A compost bin to construct! A phone number that just doesn't return my calls. What the fuck is this shit?
It's a good thing it's overcast today. It's a good thing I'm off. It's a good thing Zach ran one last errand for me before he was kidnapped--and so I've got plenty of reserves, and I am going to burn through them like Los Angeles wildfire, for I have worked myself into a bedridden tornado of populist aggravation, and until I get onto a real healthcare plan, self-medicating is the best I can do.