We're not Europe; in America, austerity means murder.
I got offered a job on a Friday but my reel wasn’t recent and hot enough and my system was too old.
I got offered a job the following Friday but I was flying to Arizona that day for my grandma’s funeral.
One fifty four in the afternoon, mid-March: the sun outside is perfect, I have the perfect mix of caffeine and glucose in my blood, and I savor a full minute of pleasure.
Now how to crawl across the dusk?
I got offered a job another Friday but the director’s brother picked up the gig instead.
I forgot to pray; I forgot to care. I forgot how urgent the split-second decisions are. They cascade over me because I don’t know how to make up my mind on the spot.
Bardoz. Transformation points. I’m flunking the bardoz.
America is the basement. How to the impossible when the callous rich are bitching and moaning about offshore wind farms being an eyesore?
This is America and we are indolent and woke up too late. I’m so angry at Reagan and Bush, Sr. and american christianity for keeping me asleep for the first half of my life.