Friday, August 08, 2014

One More Cup of Coffee Before I Go

I did the nigh-unthinkable yesterday. I walked away from 30 easy dollars standing by a door handing out blue baskets to college students entering a bookstore. Two reasons: waves of nausea coming doubling me over, and I simply had to get away.

If I’m all about these cheesy little self-affirmations,
though, it’s because they work. Sometimes. 
I’ve been spoiled by all this time alone in my basement. I don’t want to play the introvert card, as I’m not a goddamned introvert—I take a dim view of these “I have [mental condition]/I am a [fancy word for maladjusted dipwad]” fads that come and go—but being around these people really does suck the life out of me. Nothing against them (well, one is an annoying cunt), but I don’t belong among them. I don’t belong among anyone, really, only the family and friends who have put up with me for decades, and their number can be counted out on both hands. It’s just the way things have rolled for me. Can I help it if I’m blessed?

We have one more long week to go from here. Despite an exhortation from the boss to call in sick if I still felt bad, I’m driving back in to do it again today. For one thing, the solid night’s sleep I had did wonders. Also, I had a talk with the bills, and the little bastards still aren’t paying themselves. I’m not seeing any royalty checks from Germany until the start of next year, and I’ve got to go through Christmas to get to that. So, therefore, Q.E.D., ipso facto and fuck this shit, we’re finishing up this gig.

Blog posts and work on the third book in the Saga of the Dead Silencer trilogy will happen when it happens. My next free day is the 16th, Charles Bukowski’s birthday, when I’ll hoist the Jolly Roger and set sail for Blackout Island. Until then, though....



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