It took me three days to recover from working two. I was swollen and stiff. My nail polish was chipped. I was tired, yet unable to sleep. I needed to go to work but I took a sleeping pill and decided to go to work on Saturday.
I woke up at noon and spent five hours getting ready. Then I went to my car. It coughed and gasped. It rattled. It choked. It did not start. I came back inside and tried it again in half an hour. Still nothing. Again an hour later. Nope. I was all made up but had nowhere to go.
I stared at the internet for a few hours, determined to distract myself with a forum I spend time on. Nothing smart. Every post seemed hostile and against what I thought. Then I went to the bathroom and remembered that the last time I was at work I spent a large part of the time I was there thinking about continuing my career in academia. I was swinging around a stripper pole hating the one dude in the club during a red sox game. Without his presence I would not be required to dance. I just wanted to go to IUB or UNL or any other big research institution that has funding for me so I can get my ass out of the sex industry once and for all.
I am the oldest fattest stripper at my club.
I don’t think I can cope with academia any longer. The sunshine is so blinding and painful. How can I cope with day people and day teaching and daytime? I should move to mexico and be a writer. I would love to be a highly paid writer and never worry about anything again. But life is not that simple. I have too many people who need me to get my shit together. I have too many bills that are always due. How will I ever get out of this? Will I ever even get to a point where I can get out of this with something? If I manage to get through this I will be happy, I guess. Happy. What is that?
I figured I would come in here and write for a few minutes and learn a few things about myself. Maybe get some insight. Should I work on my statements, my books, my future or should I watch TV or fuck off on the internet? Yeah. I need to pick a topic and then I need to work on that. Slow and steady. Maybe learn to multi task.
Why do my hands smell like cigarettes? Is it the smoky club I work in?
I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life.
But I hate my neighbor. A deranged hippie with three babies moved into the studio apartment on the first floor. She is digging a hole in the parking area in the middle of the night. She says she is building a fire pit. So now on top of all of my little problems I have to worry that some drugged up hole digging hippie is going to set my car on fire. The fire pit is really one meter from the hood of my car. Tops.
And I get to travel. Oh goodie. I’m going to Socal, NYC, home for a couple weeks, then Vegas. Then back to NYC. If I was driving I could stop and pee on people but I am not driving, I will be traveling via the mean and nasty airlines. I need drugs.
Lorelei suggested to me that I am a drug addict. I don’t think I’m gonna talk to her anymore. I only do drugs with a reason. If I am working under a deadline, if I am in desperate need of staying calm and not getting arrested, if I need to take a nap. Alright maybe I am not addicted to a particular drug but maybe I use drugs. Maybe.
A client of mine freaked out when I offered him some ecstasy. I missed out on a trip to iceland because I was begin thoughtful. Well fuck me.
I hate the summer. Everything is always so fucked up in the summer time.
New England Bitches who want to be in my good graces should contact me ASAP. I’m applying to schools all over the country. I can’t promise that I will stay here or that I will be accepting any new clients or slaves after one years time. I’m sure a year sounds like a lot of time to a wanker. But in a year I might only have time and patience to see three new bitches.
I want to be an adult now. I’m sure it will suck.