She tried to grab me as I was walking by. She tried to pull me into the bus. Well, the roller coaster. She caught me as I was coming up the stairs and offered me gifts and jewels, and all sorts of shit like that. Whatever it was she had, I stopped to look at it. I smelled the roses, I took it upon myself to try and figure out what it was about the flowers that smelled so good. She tried to break me. I told myself years ago, no woman will break me again. I�m not going to be on the defensive for the rest of my life, but no one is going to break me again. Break into me, sure, but you�re not going to break me. She was too weak to even make a dent though. Not enough experience. I had way too much more money than her, I had much more mileage. She had the mileage that is common in a house of ill repute. I can�t believe myself when I realize I fell for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of fame and fortune. Fifteen minutes of loving baby, that�s all you get. I lie. I lie to you when I talk to you. I lied to you when I talked to you. I was lying to myself in a way, but you, fuck, how did you fall for it all? I can�t take girls like her serious anymore. I see them now, and they immediately look like they have been cleaned off with ultra Windex. A traffic jam. A whole lot of fucking noise nobody wants to hear. A clean window making a lot of noise. A Dick and Jane book. Five pages in, and I already know what happens at the end. My dick apparently needed a friend perhaps?

I was going to shave my head tonight, and stay in and read this new Nelson Algren book I bought up in Saratoga Springs a few weeks ago, but I had some errands to run, and Heather came with me. We talked for a little while about things, and it was nice to be able to just talk about shit, listen to music, be normal�and not come back here and write how I am so lonely this and I hate this one, and I hate this thing about people, and people do this, and I would never do anything like that. So THAT was a good thing to happen this week. I still am waiting to catch up on that sleep. I hate my job right now. This is not good. I can�t sit in that same traffic drinking that same exact cup of coffee, looking at the same trees, listening to the same radio station for the traffic report. Okay, wrap the bagel in two paper towels, get the coffee, open the bagel, throw the radio on wait for traffic report, listen to the news, put the CD player in exactly 3 minutes after the traffic report, ya know, right when you get on 128. Pick CD for ride. Smoke first cigarette right as car gets on highway. Drive on 128. Merge on to 93. Get off at exit in Medford. Drive through the three red lights, around the rotary. Notice all of the beautiful women walking in Somerville, pull into parking lot of work. Hello. Good Morning. E-mail. Paperwork. E-mail. Cigarette break. Paperwork. Phone calls. Lunch. Cigarette. Paper work. Repeat until nauseous. It�s starting to get to me. The routine. I have felt a lot better the past few weeks though. I�ve felt a whole lot better, I just don�t care for my work right now. Any ideas would be considered.

I should just go to fucking bed now, as writing that has just made me depressed now, great.fuck.

before & after