#20

stuck at home while she is pulled out again by the job and i was playing a sad song on the guitar that drifted into my hand and came out as three melancholy chords that maybe wouldnt be so melancholy if not for my mood and goodbye baby girl i hope things go well at work on saturday night at six o clock while i sit here in the apartment watching it slowly get darker and harder to see what i am writing but i dont really feel sad so maybe its just boredom or as the french say ennui but i have so much i need to do such as build an empire on my bald and windy innovations oh lord of editorial hell i am done with revisions and throw me overboard in a quick fury of glee and hospitality and blindfold me so i dont see the sloshing water coming at my face and hopefully i wont feel the water rushing behind my eyelids and into my brain that seems to be slowing more and more everyday as i find myself talking like ranch folks and starting a sentence and letting it hang for some thirty seconds before i deign it time to complete my insignificant thought like hey i sometimes get bored during the day