Wednesday, September 19, 2018


It's 7:21pm.

I look down at my watch - a blue Casio now - and mumble 'shut the fuck up.' Name the location: walking toward the beer store on the corner of 17th and Snyder. Sitting at home (pick one, a few different places are 'home' right now.) 7:21pm is when I cuss at my watch, because I'm not writing my life down. I press a tiny silver button to silence the nagging alarm. I'm reminded once again that I have goals - writing down my life - and I hit the snooze button every day. I'm irritated by the reminder that I ought to be getting something done. Anything. Literally anything done. Any fucking thing done, dude, any single fucking thing. Snooze. Booze. No booze? Still snooze.


tim joe comstock said...

I just gave a day laborer a ride home. He works with me. We went by the day-labor place and got his check. $48. There is a child support lien that costs him $17 a day.

Then we went by the check cashing place and he cashed his check. That cost him two dollars.

I'm drunk right now Chris and will regret this tomorrow but that dude has a very positive attitude and works like a demon in the Florida sun every fucking day and never even suspects that he is having a rough life. The weird thing is, he rides a bicycle fifteen miles to work and I gotta tell ya...

Never mind.

Pixy Stoneskipper said...

I could use some of that attitude and perspective. Makes my life seem like a total absolute blessing, which really it is. Thanks for checking in.