So I'm back at work now, after taking the morning off to deal with TRUE. I'll tell you, when I got out of the subway at Grand Central and merged into the late lunch rush of people, I felt like I had more in common with the working stiffs than any of the barflies and trustfund hipster kids I'd dealt with in the last 24. The only decent folks I met last night were those black guys at the truck depot in Greenpoint. Otherwise, it was a full-on parade of self-pity and self-delusion. I had to tell the pathetic story of my missing fingers just to coerce some answers out of the creeps at Dick's. Here's my misery, show me yours...and while you're at it, help me find my friend... I'M SO OVER IT I'M SO OVER IT I'M SO OVER IT.

TRUE, I decided in favor of you a long time ago--you're a part of my heart, and I won't dish on your business for all the world to read. I'm pissed off but not that pissed. Just one thing: did that "LIFE IS PAIN" that you carved into your stomach stop bleeding? Hope there wasn't any rust on that Swiss Army.

No comments: