(Feeling kinda Noir narration today, so here goes)
Woke up with a pain in my throat, though a hoot and a holler would shout down this morning blues. There wasn't enough water to wash away this bitter taste of Monday out of my mouth. The sun was glancing my way with a sleepy disinterest, and I wondered when exactly the moon abandoned me for somewhere colder.
A wash, a brush, and a throw and I'm heading out with a skip missing from my step. I could feel the weight of equations hanging off my eyelids as the prof said her words. Even the cute girl next to me wasn't enough to bring the numbers to life. And when you're talking about math, life is all by the numbers.
The past few days seemed to pass me by with barely a smile and a nod. The parade of hours spent out and about left me feeling down and out, but you can't fault me for a day well spent. And I spent these days like a broken gambler with a great hand. All in and over my head.
So I wrote down the words of a man who thinks too much of himself, and needs to man up to put more of himself in his words. But I write these blogs like I play killer hands, kids. Read 'em and weep.
I headed over to my job, and wished for a career. But the money wasn't showing up otherwise, so I put my shoulder to grindstone to carve out a living for another week. Living's hard in a stone cold world of hard-headed lifers, and it ain't any easier for this dreamer.
But I dream big enough for all of us.
Topics of Conversation: Transmetropolitan, stress sigh, some equipment, movies about mistakes, later thoughts, Chumbawamba, home buying, business stuff ain't fun, fans of people, cold and the US, etc.