It’s Valentine’s day @ work.
Almost called out, I was feeling so crappy,
but I came in anyway. Guess it’s a way of
showing and/or building strength.
I’m writing this on my lunch break
in my manager’s office.
I’ll probably speed read Your Portable Empire
in the bookstore again after the store closes.
Still can’t find my niche.
Crap.
I have no idea what the hell I should write next.
maybe nothing.
and still I have the urge to write something.
anything.
81 words - that’s all?
I can’t even get to 100 words of incoherent rambling.
maybe I’ll tell you what I had for lunch.
naah.
I don’t think anyone’s interested in what I had for lunch.
Lean Cuisine, if you must know.
not bad, 122 words now.
the phone’s ringing at this desk now.
It’s not my phone, so I don’t answer it.
I’m going to go get a cold beverage.
In the background, I’m hearing some guy trying to weasel
his way around complying with the terms of a
single-user license with the same low-grade continuous
insistence as a Catholic schoolboy trying to get out of Easter Duty.