if i could write this successfully every day, i'd never drink again.

Day three(day two may come later):

I just got in, in a surprisingly good mood. Happy I won against MARTA, submerged in a pond of nicotine. Been thinking about faith recently and what it means in the context of my life. I consider myself a fairly devout agnostic, inasmuch as I've dabbled in many religions and found none of them spiritually satisfying. I am not sure if I believe in the concept of a spirit or soul to begin with. I think we live in existentially terrifying times and the human mind is more than capable of finding "outs" or ways of coping outside the framework of visible life. That is not to say that I think God is a human created notion but, rather, the mythology and importance we attach to the notion of a creator is. A way to escape the seeming boredom and pointlessness of life. I too need such "outs" but I am not sure if I capable of such an act of self-deception as to believe blindly in a loving, giving creator.

a life unobserved is not worth living

I've taken to writing a page a day at work, usually on the back of a customer complaint card. Here they are, so far:


Day One:
This is the worst job I've ever had. I wonder if I can keep it long enough to not go broke, seems like it could go either way at this point. I feel okay about the work, it's just terrifically mind-numbing. I just stand here all day, saying the same thing over and over. I feel like i might never leave and, it will turn out, I am in hell. While this possibility seems unlikely, it is also very possible so I stay vigiliant. Perhaps that would be fitting punishment for my extended unemployment, endless unpaid overtime. Boss is gone. Hope drug test doesn't fuck me, cause it's not too bad to sit here, watch cars leave, smile and wave. Two young girls came in, flirted a little. Asked me if they could get free parking on their birthday. I was so inclined but wasn't sure of the logistics. By the time I had, they had gone and my chances for cheap sex fled with them. I suppose "parking attendant" is not the sexiest job title ever, but, one works with one what one has. Otherwise, life is ceaselessly frustrating, it is a life with little joy and no satisfaction. Not a life worth living in other words

i have to wonder

clean and well-lit

The clean, well-lit room is the barren, empty cave of the soul. Lord, save me from them. Give me ill-lit, give me smoke-filled, give me long-legged women not giving me the time of night, give me meager gambling wins to keep the Jamieson full, give me uncomfortable stools and high-backed chairs. Give me man's misery and alienation, give me a pen and a cheap legal pad. Give me a girl who loves me just enough to leave me alone, give me cheap sex that breaks me like straw. Give me a life that fits me like a secondhand suit, give me friends that barely tolerate me but still invite me to places I don't want to be. Give me weak lungs and strong legs, give me a weakness for whiskey and a hatred for vodka. Give me young girls who don't know well enough and old women that know far too well.