Gnossiennes 1. Lent

Billy sang to me: "What happens when your need to survive kills the thing you love?"

Bruce Springsteen. Off an album I don't have. I said, "That's good. Which one is that?"

He told me and offered to lend it to me. He got it from his car, but it was so horribly scratched that I had to refuse the loan.

He looked sad.

"Don't give up on your dreams, Goo Goo."

"Fuck my dreams," I told him. "All they ever made me is . . ."

"Broke?"

"Yeah, broke. No more dreams. I just have to be a . . . "

"A worker."

"Yeah, a worker," I said.

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Yep. Nothing wrong with that."

"Fuck it, Goo Goo. I've got to get out of this place. It's eating me up. I want to learn shit, but I'm too busy to learn the new stuff that'll get me out of here. There's no fucking way fucking out."

"We should fight on," I said.

"Yeah. Let's fight on."

*

The Boss started violently vomiting, so he took the truck and drove home. I finally had the ambition to bring my ipod in. I hooked it up in the truck during my runs. It made the driving easier. I didn't want to listen to the filler about Obama, of whom there isn't much to say yet, the most notable part of inauguration being, I'm told, Aretha Franklin's hat.

*

I worked late and stopped at my mother's house to pick up a few things. I searched online, and sure enough, there are not only sites about buying cheap prescription glasses online, but blogs about buying them as well and I already feel relieved and well informed. I'm going to use my tax refund to get a new pair, finally pay off the old ones, and then, with whatever is left, put money into the house.

I'm also looking for a weekend job. I've worked seven day weeks before, and it eventually wore me down. But I'm also pretty tolerant of a high work load. I've already applied to a weekend driver position and as the bouncer at a Worcester area club that is opening up at the end of the month. I'd rather do the driving -- night hours will kill both my attempt again at a writing career, my longass Mondays, and my energy reserves. But it might open doors. I keep knocking.

Once, people believed in vocations, in callings. And you only had to hear it.

I've heard it. But I suspect it was just ghosts and gremlins, doing their mischief. There are all sorts of nightsounds that can deceive you into thinking there are monsters under the bed.

*

I'm trying to enter a WBCN eating competition. I've sent an email to the station and am waiting to hear more. Once again, expect updates and insights as I learn more.