10/4 over and out.
What – what? Watchdog is what I wanted to say, but not really. I was planning on writing about how I was slowing down, that three beers before the ferry three weeks ago wouldn’t have caused me to blink an eye. Now, I’m fried and thinking this ferry beer before me is overkill. The date, though, writing the 10/4 made me think of the double meaning of said. The deal was done today. It’s all over. No more ticker symbol. No more shareholders. Just two owners.
Boy, I’m feeling really fucked up and tired and bloated and wishing I was outside in the breeze enjoying this pleasant beginning of fall evening. Instead, I sit here muscling down this fourth beer regretting all the cigarettes I smoked today and catching just a glimpse of the expansive northwest beauty.
Shimmering windows on Queen Anne Hill (at least I think that’s what it’s called) reminiscent of the East Bay reflections from San Francisco.
Man, I shouldn’t have bought that last pack. 10? For the day? 6-7? The crabcakes and bite-sized chicken cordon bleu weren’t good ideas either. I’m supposed to run tomorrow. I’ve been good, but I can’t work out tonight. I’ll be lucky if I can get the trash to the curb. That may be an early AM effort.
Work, workout, story. Got nothing on the story today. Bomb scare apparently on the 7:55 this morning according to my friend. Reminded me of Part I of The Moon-Shakes but I didn’t say anything. Problem with story, getting the car on the front and stuff. I need to go back and look at all that.
Plagued by the thought that this is all crap.
Grandmas shouldn’t wear skintight pants
I don’t even want to rhyme anymore.
I’ve started listening to NPR rather than music. All the signs are there. The manic run is winding down. Let’s just see how hard of a fall it will be. Lamictal don’t fail me now.