The Only Thing

Worse than getting in my way, is wasting my time when I haven’t brought something to read. Waiting an hour for a photographer who doesn’t show, or answer his phone, falls into this category. Foolishly thinking that the errand would be a quick one, I was mired in the irksome purgatory of the Gay-Kitchen, as the boyfriend of the absent paparazzo fiddled with the little dog, and I was subjected to broad hints, being dropped by one of the Boys, of an impending career in glossy print; where, presumably, he would be subjected to the ministrations of more punctual shutterbug.

It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do with my time.

That, coupled with payroll issues courtesy of the Stupid Job, has filled this day with half-starts and un-accomplishments.

Bah! I say. When do I get to the naked suction leading to release? The release foremost in my mind being from this relative poverty: that which makes it impossible to live my life as a real person.

There’s an irony here.…

But you get over the hurdles, figure out you can handle the bloody thing, then just want to get on with it; and in the meantime, the Stupid Job, continues to be stupid; and not even pay on time.

What’s left to do?

I know! Let’s make a bushel of pomodoro sacchetti, drink a bottle of Coonawarra Shiraz and watch disturbingly funny cartoons on the Internet.