I had you in my thoughts, at least. Well no, I didn't. That part of me is closed to you. I thought of you when considering if I die today, do I have time to close this off or do I want to keep it...this time I thought it's foolish of me to even care, I'm still going to get mine.
Anyway, wanted to show my face I'm okay. Went real low My schemes worked. I got my confidence back this morning when I overslept for work—that was the last part of the scheme, to make up the lost days in one day, God's day, love thy neighbor, his wife. Around 7am, I decided to put my head back on the pillow for a few moments, I had projected an 8 o clock going unto the world, next thing I know I hear a, dreams? maybe I had dreams I don't know, I hear a phone ring and I see a 12:36—but it wasn't the clock cause the clock was on the other drawer and I thought Through the mirror I could see some aberreration inside it that was a device for recording people, so I sly moved somewhere else in case I had stumbled upon some underworld crime conspiracy and the last thing I need is for people to enter my room when I've been expecting them. They wouldn't even get a chance to kill me. Anyway, so somewheres along that scene I saw the time, and I knew I was so fuckin late that isn't even doable anymore, but I also remember my first thought was "Why the fuck am I getting phone calls in a motel room—I'll kill him." Then I realized, I feel normal again. I called him back—it could only be him, the day before I was so paraylized I was so paralysized it was hour by hour, when I tried to plead or bargain my voice was so unhuman I didn't even bother, fuckers milked me—so I called him back and apologized for oversleeping, usually I'm waiting for the knock. It could be anybody. It was a sweet morning. I walked out, looked around in a good way, I said hi to the motel and the world, I wanted to show them my good side—the daughter, ah yes, it's family owned and operated. So that was just homework you were doing. Perhaps we can get married, and then some day I guess I'll run this place. I managed to grab a toothbrush, i had some soaps in my briefcase bag and a little mouthwash—asshole! i had drank the mouthwash i had tried to walk out and buy some mouthwash and advil but I was too weird and couldn't take it. I looked like a terrorist going to work but I had my smile back.
Anyway, god I forget the whole point of this. I had written a little post to show my face, and then I accidentally deleted it, so I wrote a post about trying to post and then I dropped my phone in a spot in the car where I couldn't pick it up, I tried for a good half hour, I tried lots of things, I tried with a pen then I dropped the pen in that spot so I got two more pens, I tried cussing at it in two languages—ah! see that's where the little skit originated! I'll explain later. In between, I took some swigs, cigarettes in frustration. I was having a blast. It was keeping me busy. At first I thought I had an audience, but later on whn I glanced around they had left the shopping center. I thought it would be cute to post something about trying to post something, so I looked around—first eyes that made contact with me, like a bum I ran to him. I was in the heart of Glendale. This was going to be awkward, awkward for me to act upstanding and awkward for him not to act like I'm awkward. So they were a young good looking couple, living the dream, buying cilantro and parsley at the local produce store. lots of aspects of it were comical to me, the best soup was when i jumped in the back seat to show him the spot and see if he could get a shot and his wife was stuck on his shoulder and they both looked liked they were approaching snakes and with the other hand i tried to get rid of the half-pint of jameson in the passenger seat the uh, look i gotta go. It's sunday, the bars close early, i already missed the liquor stores, i got caught up writing a few pages on paper, i mean like manually, it was supposed to go along with the posts and then i saw a skit in it, so i rushed to the 99 cent to get a notepad before i lost it, and then i lost the skit, and then i got some of it back, and then i just wnded up writing about trying to write and some other stuff i haven't yet got to skit but at this point im already sick of the skit. i'd take my new notepad cause i have some that could come out, but im too insecure and easily distracted. Someone sees me writing, they're likely to think I'm trying to be an action hero. Fuck that and fuck them.
if i don't get to typing it up, i dunno, it won't be the first time,maybe ill take pictures of it
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