For me, at least. Lately I have been feeling this guilt about making money but not doing anything to earn it, except having the right job at the opportune times to make me worthy of this government gift. Yeah, I earned it, but to see people struggling and beating themselves day in and out when I wake up pretty much when I want to and do what I want makes one quite thankful. I mean, collecting unemployment for some would be something completely atrocious, and demeaning I guess, but for me it is a freedom after being buried in work that I hated for far too long. And yes, it’s true, I have hated pretty much everything I have ever done to make money, bartending included. The only time I felt I was in my element was when I managed and booked the rock bar around the corner from here. My crowning achievement is a place people don’t even know I had control over in it’s chrysalistic pre-butterfly days.

But today was a day I could have over and over again, that feeling of accomplishment after finishing a stated set of tasks. I admit I had been spending a lot of my free time rather frivolously, if not completely messed up and stoned, I would be nappy and succumbing to my various body pains inside my house, depressed and feeling unworthy. After various discourse with a few different kitties that I know, I have modified my behavior and started a new little trend that will hopefully not only leave me entertained, but further on down the road to academic success in the near future.

I woke up, changed my shirt, brushed my teeth, walked the dog, got my coffee at D and D, and proceeded down the path train stairs. Who do I spy but Fetus, coffee in hand like me, and we start talking about his aptitudes for breaking hearts. The Fetus is one of those kids that doesn’t mean to have people fall for him, because he doesn’t expect it, but it happens, and apparently has happened more than once even recently. After assuring him that it was okay to be loved, I ran off the train to Union Square, got on the Q, went to M avenue in Brooklyn and went to my voice lesson. Lo and behold my voice lesson was also an audition for two other girls, and contrary to pre-giveashit Deanna’s urges, I refrained from leaving the building and never coming back. Kisho is one of those people who just talks and talks and talks, and I kept daydreaming about what kind of story I would be if I made some ridiculous scene and ran off. I am definitely not one of those make a scene kinds of girls, and usually will run far and away from any situation that requires one as an acknowledgment. So of course, I was the first one to sing, but I didn’t suck. Not as much as you would think someone would suck who has absolutely no experience doing any of this…And then the other girls sang (professional singers). He told me again I was a diamond, and I sounded more PJ, and punk rock than my French Canadian counterpart who moved here to sing.

It will be easy. But I want to do my own works, my own lyrics. I have the riffs in my head. All I need is a good drummer, and someone who can hear my riffs.

I left there after one too many stories, whisking my ass off to the city to mail off my health insurance check, my last day of the month ritual. I got in the longest line ever on 18th Street and emerged mildly pissed after spending 45 minutes in line. Walking down to 5th, I called E, who was not answering or texting me back. Thinking that on a Monday after the band would be in town after three months gone would be a bad time to visit, I decided not to, and instead walked to the bank, depositing my cash for the check I just sent off, and then went to Kinkos to get my proof of gym overcharge, kicked the computer a few times for being a little cocksucker, and contemplated my latest story themes and ideas. Finally emerging there after 20 minutes, I went to Starfuckers and got my chai latte and reduced fat coffee cake thing. I wanted blueberry, and pouted to the train, got on…looked around contemplating working in the full-time world. I realize I don’t want to do that. At all. I need to do something a little less mundane, a little less but, you are supposed to do things in exactly this order and here’s why. I am sick of feigning I want to be responsible when I need to just take off and do something different for a little while. A nice long vacation to Europe is the plan. Budapest, Prague, Amsterdam, Berlin are all stops. Forget London or Paris. I want different, not the depressed and egotistical American version of Europe.

Stopped by the gym, got my money back, came back half-passed out to Bruce Almighty. Ate a pistachio and cardamon popsicle. Ate a cheese sandwich whose contents I stole from Captain America and his lover, and came back.

Watched some old documentary on Tsunamis and another on Derrida, who’s really too boring for any more discussion. I wonder why it is that people think brilliance lies in some pathetic arrogance which is veiled self-conscientiousness.

Now, Family Guy. Later, Nicks.

I cannot wait to do this and get my ability to get a house somewhere pretty, with a space my dog could run. I want a cabin in Colorado, and another house in Europe. Some property on Playa del Maya south of Cancun would be nice too.

Yeah…so I am working on that.

I will make it happen. I swear I will.