Tues Afternoon

Everyone must have the fn day off, a short reprieve of temperate weather has brought the masses out for one more go around of holiday cheer, black fridays, and aggressive panhandling before the usual high desert chills come back around sending the hoards scrambling back to their televisions and weekly cold water pads. Pretty pissed at everyone right now, just in a general state of being ran into the ground for no other reason than shooting up a pipe dream of accomplishing some future goal that is as transparent as the evening sky in a remote outland mountain pass. Either way, the Mexican women inside the laundry mat are being extra nice to me as they try to figure out how to place well worn dollar bills into the change machine. It's a talent I have cultivated over the years from video game arcades to old school gambling halls. The lady's understand this new revelation and use this new found skill to keep their already smiling attitudes well intact. Not me though, can't take being nice to anyone right now, have had too many months of bullshit lying, grins, and half hearted sincerity. Those who know me, understand to forego all the thank you's and praise, what do I care, just give me dinero in which I can buy people, services, or some narcotics to melt my brain into forgetting all the time being wasted conducting such false activity.

Multitasking, trying to get paperwork, technical surveys, and soft core porn spam all addressed and sent out to the proper authorities. Rushing around like a bat on speed and acid, no real direction, a lady tosses all of her clothes out of the way, in aggressive mode, mumbling to myself and anyone else who will listen to the complexity of my daily life, moving past the basics of food, water, and shelter have only led to an intricate web of personal carnal desires that have become the base for my existence and to pay for them has led me into a few alleys that must constantly be maintained, nothing more than a junkie, a slave, and drone so I can fry my nervous system, much easier than holding it in, being amongst the public does not solve this problem, really only makes it worse, still there are a few out there for whom I shall deal with the general public with my fingers holding me nose, great material once and a while. Otherwise, have to get the hell out of this laundry mat, the woman in charge during the day keeps making eyes at me, tired of the traps, the mistakes of others which I have been handed responsibility of, its so much weight that occasionally fatigue gets the best of me. Well, off to the Rebel basketball game and a standard of allures to convince others that the gun barrel has been dropped back down to the side of my leg, we'll see, later.