Alright like so today wasn't gonna be too great of shakes, it was comin' off dumps since lids-up, maybe 6:00AM, the usual. You know just the general nervous about catchin' some sass at every turn, even if alone, and then pretty regular remembering an old bill you and the bill collector both know you're aware of. Then flashbacks to terrible old European PSA videos of stuff that happens to families that get hit by drunk drivers, thoughts of how I'm just about half-cooked on this earth, etc. It was a normal day and not too high of note. I played a Howard Jones song online but felt kind of lame about it, even though it was a comforting old pop song from the soft days of Vans and Jimmy'z. Made myself eat an apple, mostly cause it helps sewer ball things, but also I considered it a Deed for my gums.
(Dang but this is sorry now that I put it all on the table and look at it, Jesus)
Then I drank a pretty large cola (not Coke, but some kind of cola that's not a main brand) because I was thirsty, but also wanted energy. Normally I ain't a main guy of caffeine because the stuff brushes me up the nerves, but I had this strange cocky feeling and thought I could handle it. "I'm gettin old you know, I'll drink a god damned caffeine soda if I so please," you know. I drank that brown old thing then went about my business for an hour (flexing chops with some new web admin toolkits I been hearing of, of late). Soon I felt not at all subject to the worries I got trained into my crannies. Like, I felt like I could walk down the sidewalk and own the moment, not care about the thoughts of suckers comin the other way—to hell with a sucker—kind of "own my destiny" style. It's good to remember that once in the rare while. I got a pretty big head of steam up and ordered a real smoky ham sandwich — I'm talkin' a smoky ham sandwich — straight pickled pepper and mayo. Polished that puppy dogg off with all my momentum, like my brain trained my metabolism to just plow through that sandwich, even catch some speed off it. I felt so blissed havin' that sandwich, like there is a caveman part of my brain that only an inch thickness of ham can summon from the recesses of Time. It was a Survival Five: a high-five from the reptile brain.
I should have known the good times couldn't last though, zero sum game and all. All those insane sandwich calories basically dragged my cola high down like a relative at the Christmas table who loses their shit completely and just begs everyone for money or some excuse to even stay alive, just hammer-down pathetic, you straight got peas in the mouth, and you know they're tweaked on tire bead fixative or the vanilla or whatever you never considered before.
After that it got dark pretty early due to Autumn and I got a headache, so I sat on the couch and tried not to take a nap. Zero sum day indeed, with an angel's share of my hours piped up into space once again, not mine any more.
Man I got to take it easy on sandwiches or that's gonna be all she wrote.