(no subject)
I didn't mean not to post all summer, I've even sat down to write several times, but in the end it just feels so forced I hold down the delete key and watch my half-thoughts disappear stage left. I bought some new jeans. They're from Paper Denim, fit me really well. I wear them to the chemical dependency center a lot. The people in my group are mostly black crackheads and two upper level redneck cokefiends. I can tell they think I'm not as hard as them because I have tight jeans. Just because I went to jail doesn't mean I have to dress like it, nah'm sayin?
My job this summer was interesting in the most monotonous way possible. I stood next to a conveyor belt and picked up pipe fittings and threw them into a box for eleven hours. I managed to get through each day with a combination of using my highly-over active imagination and alternately switching my mind completely off. I thought about life and figured it out three or four times every day. I thought about where mine had gone wrong, I thought about my girlfriend. I haven't seen her in thirty days. I wrap myself in her words and use her voice as my pillow every night. I'm going to New York on Wednesday to see her. It's gonna be hot. I'm a sweaty bastard ya know.
I've been writing in the mole-skine that Hunter stole for me, so if my metaphors are lacking, it's because I already recorded them with paper and ink, the old fashioned way. I miss so many people and never tell them. A few lucky people have gotten late night voicemails, but when I call I'm real far away. It's nice to have work finished. I got up every morning at four and hauled myself down Providence Road through the predawn lonliness. I saw night twice a day. Every week I threw fittings and every weekend I blew my brains out. Hard work and Budweiser black outs is the American way. Thank God RZO lives in Charlotte, cause all my boys are in Chapel Hill for the summer.
I'm going to buy some records and probably the newest Boards of Canada cd.
My job this summer was interesting in the most monotonous way possible. I stood next to a conveyor belt and picked up pipe fittings and threw them into a box for eleven hours. I managed to get through each day with a combination of using my highly-over active imagination and alternately switching my mind completely off. I thought about life and figured it out three or four times every day. I thought about where mine had gone wrong, I thought about my girlfriend. I haven't seen her in thirty days. I wrap myself in her words and use her voice as my pillow every night. I'm going to New York on Wednesday to see her. It's gonna be hot. I'm a sweaty bastard ya know.
I've been writing in the mole-skine that Hunter stole for me, so if my metaphors are lacking, it's because I already recorded them with paper and ink, the old fashioned way. I miss so many people and never tell them. A few lucky people have gotten late night voicemails, but when I call I'm real far away. It's nice to have work finished. I got up every morning at four and hauled myself down Providence Road through the predawn lonliness. I saw night twice a day. Every week I threw fittings and every weekend I blew my brains out. Hard work and Budweiser black outs is the American way. Thank God RZO lives in Charlotte, cause all my boys are in Chapel Hill for the summer.
I'm going to buy some records and probably the newest Boards of Canada cd.