Warranted Selfish Undertakings

I stand outside my work and smoke a cigarette, and enjoy not caring if the new girl is there all by herself to deal with the angry angry tourists who breathe nothing but conditioned air, and find themselves without it for two days. People in the South love air conditioning. Can't live without it. Mostly the hum, I think. The white noise. The silence they got now is distracting, forces them to listen to their own thoughts. Unable to handle said thoughts, they waddle downstairs and spew their great wisdom to the new girl, while I smoke outside. I love dirty air.

P.S.

so i'm writing to myself. the transcribed equivalent of jibberish meants only for my own ears. haven't written in awhile. last i wrote was a little ditty 'bout the dangers of me drinking. wrote it at work, too. i have a lack of self presence when i'm alone. what in the hell does that mean?

i've been listening to belle and sebastian. i like them/him. don't know anythig about them/him. don't know if it's them or him. one guy sings, then there's a girl who wants to know if it's wicked not to care. if you don't care, you don't give a fuck if it's wicked. i hate that song. i always skip it. #3

i want to scream really bad. i want to run till i start flying from my own velocity. where i'm going so fast for so long that all there is left to do is just lift off from the ground and soar. get my momentum going. make my heart beat straight out of my chest. feel something for once. i don't know why that's so hard for me right now. i just can't feel anything right now. i'm bored, listless, and my soul has (temporarily?) left my body for no good reason. i really need a soul right now. i need some love these days. especially my own.

i would enjoy a drink right now. not a beer. a fucken drink. scotch on the rocks or something burny. a kristy type drink.

i quit drinking about a week ago. i don't like not drinking. i don't like drinking really either. of the two, i'd rather not. booze is expensive, and i always feel like shit the next day.

(i love drinking. it makes me feel all swimmy and warm. like i float straight through the room to the door to the toilet to the ground to my stomach coming out of my mouth. it just floats right on up. then i can miraculously just forget all of it.)

i am not janell's mother. i am not her doctor, or her fucken nurse, or her bitch punching bag. i thank tourists for giving me a job -that's kind of the same thing as me being thankful george bush still cuts down trees, so i have something to fight against- isn't she eloquent. i wondered why i wanted to help her at all. what is it in me that makes me obligated to be her friend/bitch/mother/nurse/confidante. and get nothing in return. and what is it that turned its beautifully abstract intelligent head against her to ignore her extreme existence. why could i be so passive aggressive. i will just stop answerig the phone.

i like feeling sorry for myself. it gives me reason to be selfish. any excuse possible. i need to find something to feel good about. i need to be lovely again.