to be continued
the library is begging me to sleep, I've played a show in bowling green, went to see M.I.A the following night and I now have a combined 8hours of sleep. Today is salt on the wound, my pretty bird has the day off and is free to fly while I sit here staring at the sun sunny saturday. I am keeping myself off MySpace and other various waste of times, so now I find myself reading interviews of some of my favorite current authors. it is of no use though each clock is moving without batteries, there is no life left in them, so I am here carrying on in stop motion. Some woman just brought in the book "Fight Club" by Chuck Palahnuik. I read that book in Chicago about two years ago, in various basements, flooded and molding. The basement where the reading was mostly done was at the bottom of a gay fashion store in Boystown. I took the job because really I had no choice, I was twenty-two, I just moved to Chicago and having little or no credentials, and completely no experience on the "job market" I was afraid that I wouldn't find a job in the two week limit that I gave myself. One of my roommates was working there, and he too got the job from one of our fellow roommates,aaron. Aaron was the first of us to get a job there, hired for no other reason other than "looking gay," and being a fan of the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, he started working there, and within two months was asked to be a manager. The pervious manager, Charlie, was fired two week prior too Aaron being hired but he knew the story in full of Charlie's departure. After two years as manager,doing his daily job of buying teirras and penis lighters with haughty efficiency, Charlie began to take his cocaine habit to another level. The partying became to much for his pocketbook to handle so for two months before his grand departure Charlie was taking funds that did not belong to him to continue to fuel his naroctic endeavors. I use the term "grand departure" because his exit, his swan song was so unforgettable that it was talk of those two blocks in Chicago's West Side for months. After the owner scorned Charlie down in his basement office, Charlie burst into tears and fled from the store. Some of the workers watched as he left but we're unable to see his face, all that was the could catch was a young man covering his face with his artificially tanned brown hands racing out of the store. The wind moving through his hightlighted hair as the door flew open and erased him from the scene of his crimes.