This job, in another city. This city, another job. This city and job, another season. This city, job, and season with occasional reprieve in the presence of my other. Any of the above.
It doesn't help the apocalypse is coming, one TSX hiccup at a time, maybe. Not because I'm invested, rather I'm not invested in anything these days, but because it sets the stage too well, for these everyday dramedies. Although, ejecting flatness has this way of bringing out the least aired undertones of humor. Paint it black, before the caustic one liner melts it.
The woman who I administratively answer to can't spell yippee. In communications, like today, she writes yipe! Which is, like, the sound of a cartoon dog. Mass dissolution!!!
Listening: Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
Yes, Wisconsin, sing me to sleep.
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