Your cocktail sir,





2006-06-14 - 2:21 p.m.

I just ate a king size bag of skittles, and my mouth is pained and raw from the sugar and the candy shells breaking up into a thousand shellac daggers. I ate the bag of skittles because I needed some sort of behavior that I could control, and the mixing of colors and flavors, moving them about like rainbow Othello pieces or perhaps candy mancala.

I dont' handle the stress very well. I'm all jittery and out of sorts, which makes stress worse. I'm frustrated because I don't have all the information, and I'm frustrated because people are assholes. Understandably upset due to the delays the Layton store has been having, but assholes nonetheless.

I hate this crew. If I didn't need them I would fire them. All of them. Just send them off packing. Or better yet, lock the doors tomorrow morning with thier severence checks and greet them with it coldy as they arrive (most of them 5 to 10 minutes late) for "work" in the morning. A note on the window, maybe hire some temp agency to delivery the cars in various stages of completion, but not me. I could just walk away from it all.

That's actually my dream for this weekend. Land, pick up the car, and then disapear. Re-invent myself in some tiny coastal community where my past is an enigma, one that the local Sherrif wants to get figure out, and that the lonely widow who runs the book store is afraid to find out. We will bond over some inane yet safe mystery, perhaps a murder where I, being the outsider, is implicated, but in the end it will prove to be some wealthy investor or local celebrity whome no one ever really liked anyway and we can all get back to the process of living, all of us healed to some extent by the experience.

previous - next

Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

- - 2007-07-11

Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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