The Bloody Doors Off

You know what else I haven’t done, ersatz…

I have no clue what ersatz means.

Just looked it up. Huh. Didn’t help. Knowing.

Right.

I haven’t dropped acid.

Again, no desire really to try it.

(Save for a safe environment guided by an anchor.)

A workmate gave a tiny tinfoil square that held molly.

Never took it.

Could’ve.

Didn’t.

Gave it to another.

Fuck.

These random thoughts keep popping up.

And now I’m looking at passed experiences as missed something.

I don’t know.

I can’t know.

It’s the road not taken.

And you can think to yourself,

Son, you can’t unwind decades because of a mid-life crisis. And that’s also why you shouldn’t do it now.

What about self-discovery.

This requires a conversation in the real world.

I’m listening to Johnny Cash sing Hurt.

My empire of dirt.

I can’t keep a thought in my head.

I’ll say it, or think it. Something to remember, something to get me off my seat and complete a task, yada yada.

But it’s pictures that fly in and out of focus.

Polaroids.

I haven’t seen Memento.

I had a good month, work-wise. Working alongside Marlo. I am Soluno the First. Do youu want me to do a conflict check?

One project got me to refresh the look of a client’s quarterly report. More hours. Tweaking, and teasing until the layout was. It was something I’d created.

And it’s down to minor edits now and that means after I send them the PDF for distribution, I’m done. I don’t know where my next cheque is coming from.

The money is already earmarked to paying off overdue bills.

Because when you work for yourself, you can’t guarantee a paycheque every two weeks.

Or one week if you’re contracted out.

I work with Marlo. I am her administrator. I took on several tasks, so she can do Lawyer Stuff without distraction.

My me, my wife works for herself.

She also submits invoices.

It’s trickle down economics! But in a good way. Like you know the person in front of you is so kind and honest and smart and beautiful (and very, very nearsighted) (and sexy) (oh grow up) and dammit Koster she loves you and it’s gonna be 8 years for the first date, and 7 being married. We’re there for each other.

Perfect timing, Spotify.

Try, by Pink

You gotta get up and try, try, try.

Anyway, I owe her a conversation, to pose a question, and respond to her response.

You’ll know.

One way or the other.