I suppose I haven’t been doing the writing thing to the level I’ve crafted my own stories and editorials in my own head—I’m the most prolific writer there ever was, if only I would write it down or type it in—sometimes I hate myself for my ineffective follow through with most things–it’s hard managing all the dreams I have with the limits of really nothing but cash I suppose.

The time I seem to have is definitely not minimal in my days as of the past month–from March until June I was working 7 days a week between my day job and a job I had as a waitress at Gumbos–a little restaurant owned by an even tinier man who sucks and I got to tell him so on my last day. One of those epic types of talking to that was just as effective as shitting on your boss’ desk, which maybe only some of us have wished at one point in our lives or another. Currently my boss at the travel company kicks ass and I would never shit on his desk, but you get my drift.

Said in the exchange, or really said in my goodbye–not necessarily in this order but every sentiment came out.

You are an asshole. You treat us like shit and I treat your customers like gold and talk your food up but you are just a complete asshole. You are mean, you hate women and that is obvious, but none of us does anything to deserve it. You don’t let us try the food, we have to buy it, you don’t even offer a family meal, it is ridiculous. We don’t get breaks, and you should be treating your employees like gold and it would come back to you. Right now I don’t think you will ever be successful unless you change your attitude as this places has has something off about it, and that is you. These girls seem to be okay with you, but you should be maybe a LITTLE bit more thankful they are around–because the only reason you have a restaurant is because of them. I was there for you any time you called me and you still talked shit about me and told people I didn’t bartend–REALLY–because you didn’t have sour mix and I used lemonade when you use red food color and sugar water to stand in for grenadine…I mean, really?

I basically told him I was too old to be treated like shit as it wasn’t worth it and I would find something else.

After we get back from San Diego–that’s what I’ll do.

But going up to Grand Lake made me remember my fondness for writing poetry, something I haven’t done in a long time…my cocktail napkin poems were famous in this bar I was working at in the lower east side for a while…and I don’t know why I stopped writing them, but I think it’s time to recapture that again…

And the other things–there’s things I will try to publish I will never put here, well, some of the stuff here is getting done, but the other stuff not related to my life directly will sit in other places.

And I gotta get to Grand Lake or work with the Lighthouse guys again soon–there’s stuff that needs to be done while my brain is still sharp enough to remark it all…