Today I had to report to the Dole. I showed up early and brought a novel, then sat among the unwashed masses and waited my turn to justify filing for a timeout check despite only requesting one for the third time in nearly half a century. I wonder what happened to all the rest of the money they took from me? I guess it pays for Obamacare.
At any rate, my spirit began fluttering after the third hour of wait time. I've been free from Shithole for over a month, my heart forgot what it was like to be in captivity again. It swirled in my chest like a bird in a cage. I wished I had brought the Lisinopril. I watched every other poor soul called in to plead their case. I was the very last one, and I did not blame a lack of alphabetical order, or corporate discrimination, or Sluggo, or anything else that might have happened to yank my chain. For my troubles, I was told I would have to log onto Dolenet once a week and report from now on. Things have changed since the last time, a decade ago, when I was paid for just one week. I've nothing more to complain about.
A-Argus Publishing (can you believe the name???) wants to see The Break. I haven't worked on it for nearly two years, and just sent the synopsis out on a lark. I started finishing the last two chapters, and got through one before having to set it aside for the night. It's starting to feel like the end of my rock and roll career. It was taking far more out of my spirit than I ever remembered. Now the act of writing is starting to drain my psychic energy. Maybe it's because in this work of crime noir, everybody dies. You do your best to breathe life into these characters, give them personality, a certain panache, help them resolve their conflicts...then they get blown away. Perhaps I should start writing fairy tales.
I'm going to chalk it up to a bad day at Zombieland. I'll be insulated from the Obamanation, and I'll finish the final chapter of The Break. Then I'll get back to writing about beautiful, charismatic superwomen who are out to save the world.
Nightcrawler II, anyone?
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