Yesterday’s News


My music selection did not turn out as well as I thought it would today… it’s not what I thought. I was pretty sure mashups were a genre within electronica, but whatever.

This day is not turning out as well as I thought it would generally, it’s… I paused. I looked forward to this day, a “morning” off, all week, only to wake up to texts about meetings. I really don’t understand how people can work jobs. Or maybe not all jobs are so demanding, but in my experience every single job I’ve had sucks balls. Total balls.

My brain is empty and spongy today, and I know why and I don’t care. Last night I invited the side dude over, and it was great. Now that I know he’s attached elsewhere I can see him without guilt, without being afraid that he’ll get attached to me, or that he’ll take too much away from me. It’s actually ideal.

Last night, I meant to concentrate on him, so there was so much I didn’t say to him, I tried to keep the conversation light. Kind of like I’m trying to here. And it was slow, laborious, and meaningless, like it is here. That’s not how we usually interact. This job is killing me, maybe it’s just this job.

I hope it’s just this job. A rising panic engulfs my body, it feels exactly like drowning, water rising to my neck. I’ve felt this way before, I’ve had a job before. The actual job, that I actually have, and will have to shower and get dressed for tonight? That doesn’t feel like drowning, it feels like being submerged. It feels like being dead. It feels much better.

Dying feels terrible, but being dead probably doesn’t feel so bad.

The meeting I was supposed to have was supposed to start now. Of course, after getting up and ready to do it, I find that it’s been postponed until 2. And probably will be postponed again. But it’s still preventing me from getting into this post, other than counting the minutes between here and the time that I’m going to have to leave it behind.

My head feels like a pile of fluffy blankets rolling over each other in the dryer. And I’m fine with it. I just don’t want to have to do this meeting, or the one after this.

All I can remember from my dream last night was peppermint beef meatballs… but shouldn’t that be made with lamb? I want to make a lamb leg for my side dude.

During our conversation in which I left most of my mind unsaid, we talked about the subject of anonymity. This page has far too much identifying information on it, I say as I write down a song tag from an account registered to me. I mean I guess it’s fine here, no one cares about this… but now I have to keep it that way.

And this has been my problem with my whole life – keeping everything unremarkable so that no one will look into my transgressions.

I could have been great.

It looks like this will be the best part of my day. <=== I was going to put a link here, when I realized it would be identifying, and unnecessary. *This*, now all of this, is the best part of my day.

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