Why be something when you can do nothing, nothing at all with your life

I have to be out of the house by eight because the meeting is at nine it’s at nine it’s at nine. This can’t wait I have to meet him today, this morning, in 7 hours, I need to go to bed. But I haven’t written anything. I need to blog and I have homework and I need to set up other interviews and I still haven’t signed up for next semester. There’s a hold on my record because I never had a physical I can’t afford the fifty bucks for the physical; I am currently not attending school in January. I am sitting at a table smeared with food my kid is a two-year-old disaster, behind me the sink experiences periodic avalanches of dishes and there are leaves in the house. It is Fall and there are leaves in the house but the vacuum’s busted and it’s added to the list of things I have to take care of to get somewhere in life. Where is my wife? She’s working 60 hours to feed me and our kid. Where is my head? forehead planted in crusted mashed potatoes on the kitchen table in the digital glow of my laptop I am trying to work. I am exhausted I am drunk I am getting nothing nowhere.

The world is a fertile oyster my sperm refuse to swim. The future is a novel to be written I am staring at blank pages. My mother-in-law gave me a birthday cake it’s in the fridge by the beer. I can’t sit here any longer. I have to be out of the house by eight to make the meeting in time I can probably leave at 8:20 and make it alright. I want to watch Adventure Time on the couch and drink my beer and pretend I’m in high school playing videogames till 3am because I can and I’m safe in my parents’ house they’ll take it all away.

            Crawl. because it will get you somewhere safely in a nook of the couch this is where you’ll find the beer. Warm yourself. Beneath the blanket get warm and watch Adventure Time. Cartoons are warm. Just remember 8am you have to be awake. Drink beer. It’s okay you need to unload and the blanket is the beer is the Batman bedsheets in your bedroom with your head beneath the pillow, parents’ voices in the other room, this is the warmth of the beer. You can be anything you want to be. You can conquer the world.

You can be famous someday.

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Say something - I hate talking to myself

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