Saturday Morning

I just worked an hour on what could not be finished.  It had to be trashed.  Best thing.

Yesterday morning, as I reported, was bad.  The day turned evil.  Home from the factory, I found my cars tagged as "abandoned vehicles" by the city.  Shit fuck goddamn.  This is it.  This is what I've become.  Enraged.  Embarrassed.  Pathetic.

I went downtown to see my buddy in a play.  Afterwards we went out.  I should have been scared.  The bars and side streets were full of goblins and freaks.  It was horrible.  It was fascinating.

I was up too long, slept too late.  The day slides by.  The cat, too much alone, whines and complains and lies upon my feet.  I get irritated and then realize that is what I do here.  She needs a blog.  It might help.

I want breakfast and will go soon to eat bacon and eggs and toast and grits.  I will leave the diner smelling of rancid grease.  I should do something about the cars, I know.  But there is so little free time. I want to walk among the living.

Uh-oh.  I've done it again.  There is no helping it this morning, I guess.  Some days are just like that.