Action

My new job is to walk around New York City, smoking cigarettes and drinking blackeyes.

Pondering the meaning of life.

I fucking hate my job. Deathtrap desert race 3000 to the moon. Make that money, hustle, survive. Scared, scarcity, pump up the base, keep it going now.

I've found my new thirdspace home. God, it feels good to be back. If you all are looking for me, this is where my body will be while I float in cyberspace. I've been so intent on getting a laptop..the obvious alternatives..seemed to escape me. I need somewhere to blog, write, surf, look for a new job and get my information fill fill fill. AHhhhhhhhhh.



Yo, btw, fuck easyinternet in times square. Actually, scratch that. I love the ill sleazy vibe..the janky ticket machines and the crazy bastards all up in there. Also, don't forget that times square comes real close to one of my second homes-Las Vegas..and...sheeeeet...mmmmmm...oh the spectacle.

This weekend was a debaucherous debacle and a half. The proverbial "drinks with co-workers". The proverbial bender and **** binge is more like it! I'm such an asshole sometimes. Whole damn weekend gone. Someone, very much like me died. Fucking around like this is not an option. Like that scam artist psychic told me last week..I was meant for greater things. The golden path. Hmm. She was dead on, but questions linger.

I bought a belt. I need a haircut. I need love.

..and pondreing the meaning of life. My life, and all life over and over.

Action.