here comes the sun
its supposed to be raining but the skies are clear and the tank tops are out, being modeled along the street. the weather man is always wrong. always.
growing up the joke was always "dont trust the weatherman," which seemed odd to me because, living in san francisco, he was always right. i assumed that the belief was just something created for television sitcoms; the weatherman was simply a comedy device. another thing to crack wise about while the kids caused mischief or the super made passes at your wife. another reason to illuminate the 'LAUGH' sign above the studio audience. then i moved to new york.
now i get it.
but thats neither here nor there. the weather man will have his faults just like anybody else. the point is, its sunny today, which means at some point i really should make it out of the house. i cant sit around writing and reading and doing 'work.'
though i have a lot of work and writing and reading to do.
ive got to write a ten page story [ive decided it will be about the time i decided to become a DJ] as well as an original poem [dont know about what] and a critical analysis of a classic poem. i also have to read a book about the poetic form and write a paper about that. plus i have to watch porno.
then again, i need to go to the bank and the post office. plus i gotta go see a band my friends in tonight. so im not trapped in my chair all day. not technically.
ill write more later. maybe. i dunno.