rodriguez on the bus

rodriguez was on my bus again. when we were waiting for the bus he was talking to that black guy again and asking him if he knew the song levon. then he was talking about god and his cousin. and then he was asking the guy if he wants to come over and hang out. he has a screen, dvd player. he said they could listen to rap music or any other music. he gave him his address and phone number and cuz he lives in a half way house the guy should call him first so he get permission for a visitor. then on the bus half way to union he starts talking to this lady he was sitting next too, but didn’t see here there and was saying she was an angel. then he was asking her if she knew the devil in a blue dress song and kept saying how it didn’t make sense why would the devil be in a blue dress. then he started talking about walks like an angel and then he says he can do a great elvis and starts trying to do elvis. so now i am sitting here singing suspicious minds.

Ding Dong The Bitch Has Quit

So I have gotten word that the evil bitch that forced me to quit my 8 year job will be leaving the building. She gave her notice and will be gone in 3 weeks, not soon enough.

I’m happy for my mom who had to deal with that bull caca.

I’m pretty hungry. I should probably eat lunch or something maybe. I don’t really know. awesomeness

My Brain is Full of Nothing

I feel like i have this nothingness to say. I want to write something good so badly it kinda hurts, but nothing good comes out when i try. I was trying the artists way for a bit, but then i got distracted. i feel like anything i do is not good enough or something. and people won’t like it or something, but sometimes i’m cocky and know that i am good. i just can’t get it out. almost like my heath ledger and the demon dream. that would make an interesting story, but heath is no longer here to play the part in the movie version.

I also feel frustrated that i can’t write a fucking real story anymore. what the hell is wrong with me? or even a part of a story. i mean at least before i came up with some bomb story ideas even though i didn’t elaborate on them and i just fucking forgot the word elaborate while i was writing this.

my brain is a ball of mushy crap. and it won’t come out. i need to get past this shit. god i hate that i can’t/don’t/won’t write. i don’t know what me deal is, maybe i want to be too good. i should be putting all this work into writing and i just don’t ever. i never sit down and write anymore, like ever. about anything really.

there has got to be something inside me. even if it is a short story or something stupid. i should at least get something down somewhere.

i don’t know what to do. this is not really the life i thought i would be leading. not married, 1 kid, working at a non profit doing data work. what the fuck? this is not how it was suppossed to happen. the ony thing i did right, that was in my plan was the kid. I was suppossed to have 2 books published by now. serisouly.

and what do i have to show for it? absolutely nothing. i do not have 1 thing published. where did it all go wrong? why didn’t/don’t i do something about? i don’t know what/how to do anything anymore.

alas here i sit at my stupid data job wishing i was home writing my next novel.