“guess what I just did?”

What? I asked.

“I just played piano for Chantal (the singer of Morningwood) and Mick Jagger at this bar in Boston”. They were singing Ella Fitzgerald and some other stuff my tired mind could not recall. Nice. He went to Juliard so that’s nice. I don’t even think I spelled it right. But yeah, I’m jealous. All the celebrity contact I get is rescheduling Joan Jett’s facials yesterday…ha ha! Those who know me know I don’t get off on celebrity shit. But I also hate missing out, being the missing puzzle piece, the person on the other end of the phone as the voices in the background ask, “what’s up what are you doing?”. I mean, yeah, it’s nice to be remembered. But I feel badly. Yeah I hate my job and wish I had one so full of mischief and fun.

But no, I walked out of work tonight half in tears. Then I had to listen to a screaming child all of the way home. I was a half an hour late. I took my last one dollar bill out of my purse and bought a cannoli (something I could not afford lately). If redbull came in the mail I would call in sick.

But it didn’t. I work tonight until 4. Wake up at 8, work until midnight, sleep, work at ten again.

Thank god for my weekend. And this laptop my boy left me to vent on. It’s not even so much that I care if anyone else cares, but its my screaming voice.

my period is a many-elbowed thing
poking me repeatedly

as that little kid screams

if i was something tonight i would be a blanket.

but instead it is my one “drinking night” a week. granted I have one drink, but because I rarely go out it’s like social hour even though I am the bartender. the drink slinger. vodka shooter.

bah bahhh black sheep.

watch me sink

I’m in deep.