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  • Emmeline says:
    5/8/2012

    Woolgathering is Free Sick. Frustrated. Sicker than sick. Sick as a fabulous dog- and tired- animal tired. If I had any guts in anyway I'd end the item. I'd just walk out into traffic or possibly off a extra tall building. I'd wave a gun from a cop or taunt a local street gang right until they end me mercilessly. It's a considerable amount of fucking pain, life- meted out in tiny increments ordinarilly, minute by minimal, every agonizing following. The clock on the wall says tick-tock tick-tock but everybody it's running slow, slowing down, sprinting backwards, I'm reliving everypainful second many times, the black or white schoolhouse clock about pain. Everything it can backwards. If it looks wrong its probably right. Should it looks most suitable you'd better view your step because things could just get ugly, increase in your fists, hit you in your face with the brick. You take issues for granted and suddenly you find your own self standing there in your shit with the confused look asking, "What happened? " Now the boss- there's a simple ruthless motherfucker. Chilled. Cold as piece of rock. To that guy people are just numbers at a ledger, and you'd more suitable hope you're on the plus side if you move from "asset" to Liability" and learn fuck you difficult and quick without even great deal of thought. He'll take care and ntion of you with lunch break. To him we've just pawns to be traded, commodities to always be used up lacking emotion. I'd desire to be that separate. Then I wouldn't feel the guilt, the obligation- I just wouldn't regret that ended up during the human garbage can certainly, just another scrap in the junk pile. A flotsam hurtling thru space and effort, creating chaos and additionally hurt and detonating anything I touch, hurting anyone what person gets near others. Nowill ever love others. I could never ever respect someone who would settle for a person like me. By themselves by ition, spilled and miserable, clicking set on degeneration. Fuck you for wanting- I'm not likely your fucking superman. "Can you be seated over here where I can also see you? " In the man with your notepad sitting behind him isn't going to sound much for a question; more like an order. "Why? It should make you nervous in my situation to sit back here? " The person sitting behind him makes a note on a clipboard. "I just cannot stand anyone behind everybody. It's a habitual prn. It works in my circumstances. " The guy makes another note on the clipboard and subsequently moves his chair forward a small number of feet, not ahead of the man lying on the couch but as a minimum in his peripheral eye sight. He settles go into reverse in his reclining chair, wiggling his ass to find comfortable after this inconvenient move. "Better? " The man lying at the couch stares at the ceiling. "It'll can. " "So what were we having a debate about last week? inches Sitting man shuffles with some papers upon his tablet. "Fear. Listen up. So what that may be you're afraid in grany wants man volving? " The man at the couch doesn't flinch, "I'm not afraid of substantially. " "Then what are you running from, why do you really lean so a whole lot towards self damaging activities? What ya think is driving who? " The fella lies there and acknowledges the question. Driving a motor vehicle, driving, fueled by alcohol, alcohol-burning auto or truck of self-destruction, driving a motor vehicle drunk, driven to drunken danger at midnight. Death. "The pain- it can be p horny black mothers ain, everything. Its tedious and crippling, I just really need to move and the idea hurts. " The ski man makes an alternative note on their clipboard. He then takes a drink of their coffee and leans back. "Has anyone by chance told you which are a penchant with regard to self pity? " The laying mankind turns his scalp and laughs out the bark of fun, like he coughed away something hard and additionally slick and dark-colored. "All the fucking time. " Home He woke up before dawn, lying on the sofa at midnight, guessing at the amount of time. The television casts a fabulous surrealistic blue greyish glow on anything around it, excellent running the similar loop as yesterday evening about a car bomb in Greater london, a be at the Gaza strip, Police corruption in San francisco, another pedophile beats the rap,additional Hollywood asshole I. D. s in an individual's hotel room- same shit. His head hurts from much more wine, and for ones thousandth time the person wonders why he or she does this to himself. He already has found out the answer- it is progressive, for a cancer- dark, charcoal, and malignant- no get any better in the future. But still, it's an already-established habit he comes with, beating the absolute shit because of himself and subsequently pretending he doesn't know why. He navigates from memory, picking his way towards the kitchen at midnight. There isn't much to run into since Shizuko eventually left. Most of all the furniture was hers, the different dishes, the pictures on the walls- just about everything. He likes any empty rooms, despite the fact, and has slept on a secondhand sofa to your pastmonths accompanied by a television on. The stools have amazing shape for their age, the tables immaculate. The lighting isn't delicious, though- and all the things looks better at midnight. The fossils decaying on the bar must have grown there- many people never move. I'm using the waiting gameplay, solitaire, flipping cards and cheating whilst the boss talks on the. I'm on great third ginger beer but I'm undoubtedly thinking something with a lot of vodka might help make me feel a bit of better, and it isn't even noon. The Eagles happen to be playing Tequila Sunrise- it again makes me plan to hurt someone real bad. It's not at first chance I note of the fact that jukebox in this place is the shittiest selection ever in your life, but even so i hate it anyway. About half almost daily this is your job, the rest of that time period spent driving from spot for their place, stopping in from a laundromat the boss has an interest in, some card room uptown, another bar down by your beach- I won't do much nevertheless drive and have around. I'm more from a visual deterrent. People fuck around less if you have had some whore-assed enforcer looking like your back up- someone who looks like they really don't produce a fuck whether yourr home is or die. Jesus Christ- That i fit that bill for a tee. I rarely must do anything at many except keep this mouth shut and drive- the media does lots of the leg work. This can be a bullshit job but it pays pretty Right. I was for no reason much for manually operated labor. So Today the threshold opens and onlymen walk with, the bright sunlight rendering it to shadows while in short , illuminating the layer of cigarette smoke that fills the top endfeet for the room, switching oh no - darkness as the entranceway closes behind them. They say something in the bartender who nods over in our direction. I spot the fossils shift in their positions, craning their necks view the new arrivals, onlyLatino guys during bad suits. I give a presentation as they way, but my ceo waves me go into reverse, letting me recognise that he's expecting individuals. I take great leave and go to the bathroom. My stomach hurts and I really regret that second wine beverage I drank yesterday evening. It feels like I have something explosive in doing my gut, bloated and acidic. I hate literally everyone but I hate the wine more. The bathroom is often as dank and seeing that yellow as other place, illuminated by a bare amber bulb set involved with the ceiling. I can also hear the Eagles end and the Commodores come on muffled on the walls and the head hurts alot more. I settle down on the toilet, careful to keep on my pants off of the floor as far as possible. Just as I'm about to unload I perceive yelling from out during the bar and I'm split- what is stay or do i need to go? I jump " up " mid-crap and run out into the bar working to get my pants up, bursting through the door to find my boss and therefore theLatinos sitting calmly from the table whilefor the fossils are within a scuffle near a bar. My boss and then the Two Latinos look over at me positioned there with this pants half on, a dumb take a look on my face and then the sneaking suspicion that i just crapped by myself. 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There's a black guy and a white guy on their late teens or maybe early twenties, all decked released in nylon athletic apparel and jagged caps color-coordinated aided by the neighborhood flunkies. I are aware of the boss giving them a challenging look while he talks relating to the, and I sum it wont be just before he has people toss them out. Sure enough x minutes later them start chopping wrinkles of speed on the edge of the actual pool table and therefore the boss taps me at the shoulder, waving vaguely throughout their general direction. I set my cards not to mention walk back at this time there, grabbing some darts along the route. I throw x darts at a fabulous board near where they're just standing. They check at me not to mention sneer, trying to look hard. To my family they look superior and stupid along with over-confidant. I stare back at these products, indifferent. 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    7/24/2012

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