why do fireflies have to die
today was one of those smooth days where you wake up early and actually take your time doing all things you usually cram into ten minutes. work was eezie peezie, a little editing, a little lip flap, no stress, no frustration. lunch went better. snuck in a salad in the morning so I could have the full hour to go to the bank and get my emissions tested. had a pork loin at the cafeteria, dripped some gravy on my shirt. got my new ID, snuck through the lot avoiding security so they wouldn't have a chance to cuss me out for parking in a visitor spot. the afternoon has been just like the rest. an hour to fill and I'm all done with work. maybe I should discuss how I'm doing. well... I ran out of ganj so I finally started unpacking my boxes. the bathroom, the smallest room in the joint mind ya, is done. 2000 flushes in the pot, mr. bubble waiting on deck, magazine area, medicine cabinet properly stocked. the kitchen was mildy dealt with, I just soaked the dishes that I packed dirty. geve them a day to think about what they've done. went to the grocery store bought meat, meat and more meat. saw capturing the friedmans, felt gross and yet sympathetic to all those invovled. saw the beginning of about schmidt at randy's. I left after a little bit. Snuggyville's a little tense these days. i love my apartment, but get bored quickly and have been renting like a crazy man. catch me if you can, filmed in 52 days, 52 DAYS! that fucker is too good at what he does at this point. the spy that came in from the cold, my Richard Burton phase continues. Grave of the Fireflies, only made me feel like an asshole. americans are assholes, I've come to learn. I bought Life after Death by the B.I.G. but found myself wishing I had gotten eve's album, killer mike, fabolous or hot boys. fife had a new single at the store but my needles fucked up. I like state of the art beats, the latest, the pop. speaking of, I need to get my ass in gear and finish up some songs. kinda put it off since the move and the play. got a review in the creative loafing which spelled my name: MC Chris Ward. groan. no one cares. a kid came up after the second night and wanted an autograph. he was really young and really nervous with his uncle next to him, looking at me like what's the BFD? no call from my rock star guardian angels. it's been a week and nothing. I'm just praying to god they're really busy or drunk. maybe it was a prank and the pranksters felt as though they'd gone too far. I believed them too much. I revealed my desperation, my willingness, how eager... whoops. shoulda played it like fonzi, then again, it's only been 8 days. I'm counting them like I'm waiting for the girl I like to call back. It's all kinds of fucked up. Saturday night we went dancing, my friend rene was spinning. it was fun once we got into it, before that I was about to leave after my first sip of beer. the girls were looking gooder than good and I wanted to take'm all home like little ho-kemons. one was wearing shoes that my x got far too much attention over. it almost ruined the whole night. I did make repeated eye contact with a girl wearing low riding chucks. all the girls were very indie rock and they liked doing the molly ringwald to rene's euro-mush. I think maybe I will go see rene spin more often. hopefully I won't get kicked out of the bar before he goes on like I did at the echo last week. yeesh. note to self: don't get up on the mike and bust it at a benefit for a dead dude. this week feels like it'll be long. but there's still much to do. I got to get my head out of the clouds and back on earth. I'll wake up with no record contract and no job if I don't watch out. it's difficult. too busy to be sad or lonely, but there have been times when good news has come my way recently and I had no one, like that lame comic in comedian. no one to call. maybe I should just start stapling my phone number to telephone poles. maybe I should just chill out. xomc