My brother’s in town and he’s helping fix somea the computers here.
Me: How can you tell?
Him: (laughing) She told me…and she’s a got a folder that’s named, Someone copy my article.
Heartgirl told me recently that she doesn’t know what to tell people when they ask what I do for a living. It’s funny, all of the women I dated’ve said the same thing. Most of my friends don’t know.
It’s…complicated, how I make my money.
I’ve a particularly odd skillset but the funny thing’s that I’m very good at a several, seemingly unrelated things. But if I had to sum it up to in one unifying idea, it’s that I collect and process data.
Writing, in fact, is an example of my processing data; I take various disparate concepts, weave them to one (hopefully) coherent argument and distill that to a printed page.
On that note, I’ve gotta pick one of these skillsets sooner than later.
Him: You said you’re in for the next gig.
Me: I’m thinking of being an officer of the court again.
Him: (laughing) They’re no different than us except they wear ties.
Location: 14:00 yest, being told to rinse and spit in Queens (again)
Mood: still sick
Music: The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing