Aug 092017

ah…pixies…love them.
saw them.

anyhow, vacation is still on, thanks to the new job that will honor the fact that i prepaid all of the lodgings, plane ticket, rental car, ticket to moab music festival. today was spent trying to fix my printer (the tech gods are really fucking with me) and trying to find road trip music for the drive from salt lake city to moab.

the eagles. greatest hits (70’s era). good shit.

it’ll be a 4hr plus ride. figure at some point i’m going to get lost. happened in france…so…may as well have music to accompany the shitshow it may turn in to. beautiful scenery deserves a great road trip soundtrack. so the eagles it is for starters. may add some Elvis. some Johnny Cash, and some Lucinda Williams…maybe i’ll download some Loretta Lynn and some Patsy Cline.. and Ryan Adams (thank you Moonman wherever you are dear man)

ah, well.

i’m really needing this vacation. need to see the stars. need to be reminded that in the great scheme of things, i’m but one little soul amongst the many… i need to marvel at the great vast beauty of the universe…

and remember i am made up of the same elements.

“…then the devil is six, and if the devil is six, then God is seven…”

you do not do, you do not do

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Aug 092017

anymore black shoe… oh sylvia.
amazing two weeks.
lost my job
lost wifi while trying to do online work for school.

the universe is a tricky son of a bitch. it throws a punch. and when you’re doubled over, it kicks you in the head and messes up your wifi for good measure.
to quote the famous billy pilgrim, “so it fucken goes” (franny added the fucken part).

anyhow. 2 scottish whiskey shots later…through the midlife crises and menopause glow, i sit here.

life goes on. the world keeps churning it out. and i hate it, but really what can i expect? people keep doing, keep being.
fuck it.

10 days. it took me 10 days to find a fucken job. with better benefits. better hours. less stress.

so be it.

this is why the two shots may turn into 3. FUCK YOU former employer that canned me because i pointed out i wasn’t getting a break during my 12 hour shift. fuck you for thinking that i am a robot. FUCK YOU critical care docs that didn’t see fit to understand how tough it is to do treatments every hour without a break for three fucken months. it is not an easy job to care for patients slowly dying. dying. for HOURS. for days. fuck you fellow staff members who bitch and complain but stay silent when it really counts. you suck.
so. i’ve had one helluva two weeks. i struggled getting schoolwork done, school project done because the internet kept disconnecting intermittently. i got shit done plugging and unplugging the router. regardless, despite. i finished the course with an A. FUCK YOU internet provider.
it’s been music therapy the last few days…joe jackson (his early 80’s stuff), some sade (just sublime), some bowie of course and t-heads. and it got me thinking…about…a long burned letter…that stated:

“I don’t know why I equate you with music” he wrote… you know why Mark? because it was an integral part of our relationship. it filled the in between. it filled in the words when we couldn’t. i suspect it still does.
your daughter is beautiful.
i’ll probably die loving you even though i don’t know who you are now…i still see the young 18 year old shy guy who had no idea how beautiful he was. the love of my life, noone could measure up to…

such is the crap, dear reader, you get to read from a woman who is slightly drunk… my apologies.