yeah, well the typing is fun.

Programming is the ultimate version of legos.

So two weeks ago before I even got dizzy I drove home. There was something playing loud inside my car that I wasn't ready to stop listening to, so I sat in the car for a few minutes after I parked on Cambridge street, pointed toward the courthouse and the highrise prison on top of it. It's funny that East Cambridge was originally settled because an ( Read more... )

This shirt has a button on one side of the collar and a loop on the other so that it may be fastened beneath one's tie. I noticed this stumbling down the stairs earlier, when I saw my reflection in the dirty little panes of glass at the top of the outer door. Out the door, pulled it closed behind me and out to the crosswalk to stand on the second ( Read more... )

I keep thinking I look like a fucking homeless. What?! Where is my home, now I am homeless!!! Or a street person, no, not a street man. It is the jacket, the wool one with the lapels and three buttons, that, with the hat and 6 days of face, make. And the sunken black eyes, to where maybe not dressing like a junkie would be a better choice, in some ( Read more... )

Now I remember why I used to sit here. Narci-fucking-ssistic. Not that I'm done witht that.

It wasn't hillarious exactly, but a bit funny I thought, my line about getting a mammogram in the mail, written in braile. But then don't you know, the one I sent it to, her sister has a breast tumor today.

It's been a long time, hasn't it, since I sat here with a pack of cigarettes and a half cup of port. I miss the sitting in front of the music, smoke in the blue glow, with a hangover planned, waiting. Now I only sit with the smoke and music and I haven't the wait.

Fucking A yeah. From the fucking laundry folding to the pants dance to this album turned as far up as it can possibly go in my little jungle, it's turning out to be a good evening. A lot of sleep, some contrast, wine, cauliflower, and anticipation. And fucking rocking like a little kid.

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