Ha. Sorry to everyone who worked.
Labor Day is probably the most ironic of American Holy-daze.
In a government/society/culture/shitfest founded by Puritans and imperialists, who has time to sleep?
How did I contribute to the working man today?
9/7/09...
00:00. Drunk and drunker on Ebay. Win bid on fucking awesome new noisemaker. 90 dollaz.
12:00. Hungover.
13:00. Surfing the web (euphemism for facebook, porn, email, and blogspostings).
14:00. Rode bus to the haight, spent an hour with my friend from villainsssssf while he worked and i made stupid comments.
15:00. Went to lunch for burgers. delicious and "meh" service.
16:00. Bought 200 washingfuckingtons worth of clothes in three fucking items.
16:01. My granmda Jean would be proud.
16:02. Everyone in my family would probably scoff at this purchase.
17:00. Proceed to drop off the clothes and ride the BART to Walnut Creek ($10 round trip [and yes, Walnut fucking Creek]).
19:00. Walnut fucking Creek. Spend another fifty dollars on records. But you better believe they were worth it! Here's a few:
Graham Nash - Songs For Beginners
Shel Silverstein - Freakin At The Freaker's Ball
Vanilla Fudge - Renaissance
Someday I'll offer free downloads...there are people more qualified than myself though.
20:00. Home and tired. Drinking and listening to my plastic gems until now.
Now: Found some old one sentence stories from college. Kind of like lists...
Note on a Chair at the Beginning of Mo(u)rning
Feebly draping the sugan, his midnight denouement tells the old woman, “Body in shop.”
What a Sight!
I had seen enough, or perhaps I’d stayed too long; either way, the cops were yelling from below, and my arm was tired.
Unemployed Sweet Tooth Happiness
“Another beer couldn’t hurt.”
Happy Labor Day!
I smile, and wave at the man lifting cans of my past weeks shit; he and the stench of the truck disappear, I flip a burger on the grill, and reach for a Heineken.
