hanging around

I was going to write about how cruel things were with me. How I have a girlfriend who I never have sex with. How I own a company that doesn’t make any money. How I throw parties that no one ever goes to. But as I was walking home I felt the warm night peel things away and then the idea became a vague memory. So now I'm stuck importing Radiohead cd’s into my itunes and wondering which word will come next.

I just went through a marathon of shifts at the bar. It got painful. Not that the job itself is hard, though sometimes I clash with customers. Its not an open or obvious conflict, I contain myself ok, but some people are just unadjusted. It’s just the routine of it. The late nights. The shots. The hurt when waking up. Over and over. It gets tiring. But I appreciate what it is. I like the people I work with, the regulars. The people who are truly involved in the operation. And I like the fact that I have this other home. This bar. Away from all the rest of me.

Oh snap. I have to bounce. Its 2am. Dinnertime.