journal entry.

im at work at cafe lalo.
thinking about strawdogs.
what a crazily fucked up movie.

leave it to tanksley to blow my mind at the most innocent of times...a friday afternoon. i remember losing my mind every friday afternoon. just knowing that the weekend was finally with me was enough to make a kid go crazy. walking in the middle of the road screaming at the top of my lungs without a care in the world.

worksheets were done, lines were filled with color and i was as old as i'd ever be. the first, last and only day...friday. the best day.

not like today. this day is no friday. waking up late with a hangover and running to a cancelled french class with unbrushed teeth. this is not the magical friday of yesteryear. watching dustin hoffman brutally kill 5 or 6 grown men with covered ears and a gaping mouth all alone is not exactly magical. cold scilian pizza and spicy vegetable soup. hardly my idea of warm and fuzzy. smudged eyeliner and chipped nail polish. not cute. deoderant stains on stolen black shirts. competeing for the attention of busboys and wiping crumbs off marble. waiting for my prince to come. thats a bit more like it.



---this is what i do at work...thank god---