wild_zero

"valentine's day sucks"

when i woke up this morning, there was this loud alarm that was of no importance telling me it was 9:30, which i promptly ignored for the next hour and a half while i lay in bed, half-awake, half-dreaming. the dream concerned itself with various past lovers, who manifested themselves as strange symbols emerging from a fog as i wandered aimlessly through nameless city streets. i managed to re-live each transgression and failure in turn, one by one, until everything eventually dissolved into a mess of screaming, heart-break, and false premises.

and that's how my day began.

as i made a valiant effort to destroy facial hair using an overdue razor, i couldn't help but notice the sink was clogged up. i need draino, or some of that gel to destroy nearly six months of follicles which are impeding the flow of water into the beyond. six months is about the time i last decided to change the razor, so in case you have some strange tabs on my face - that's why i'm scruffy.

i went to the cross-eyed cat, and ordered my usual fare - scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and soysage. quiet, empy cat. to eat food in silence is a bliss that many people overlook. eating is a private matter - to share it with somebody is a deep sign of intimacy that is often overlooked. only sarah decided to wish me a happy valentine's day, as kind of a generic coda to tell somebody intent on leaving after having paid good money. she's the only person that said such a thing all day.

work was a disaster. i had to deal with an office of people looking forward to a trip to mexico (sponsored by the company) and various people dressed in ridiculous costumes delivering a range of sundries for the meek, such as: flowers, chocolates, cards, songs, dances, and combinations of such in various forms. it seemed like nowhere i went - the elevator, the stairs, the lobby, the smoker's place, the other smoker's place - there was always some kind of ridiculous display of commercial affection paid for by honest people with emotional senitment.

i threw up on the 8th floor bathroom (a floor rented out by my company to others) and drank some more gin to top things off. mostly, i just wanted the bad taste out of my mouth, and nothing much more than that.

i wasted the rest of the night waiting for my manager to leave. he decided to be spunky and wear a blue and white striped shirt with a white collar today - i took it as a sign of weakness, obviously staged to make him appear more powerful. i have to admit, there's something about an asshole's shirt that makes somebody exude more authority. he didn't leave and i had to finally yondernate out of there around 8:00, mainly because i got sick and tired of reading ccn and bbc over and over again, hoping some kind of different article would emerge from the void. i saw him as i grabbed a water and left, all smug and meaningless, in front of emails that harbored nothing new or insightful or useful to the company.

the ride to carroll st. cafe was uneventful. i did what i usually do - drive just a hair slower than the fastest person to maximize on time and not feel like a total asshat, subject to fear. yes, in my stupid neglect and all the other things running in my head, i forgot it was actually valentine's day. i had this vision where i would sit and order and steak and drink some good red wine and treat myself while couples basked in their own glory, elsewhere. man, was i retarded. when i entered carroll st., every couple in the restaurant looked up at me in my jeans and neglect and stared me down (who the fuck is this cat?). i quickly assessed the situation, and yelled out, "well, fuck all y'all - i just wanted a steak, motherfuckers!" and left quietly. i guess a lone guy can't treat himself right on this night.

instead, i went and had a slice of pizza, and no beer because their taps were destroyed. quite the meal; complete with reading the paper and not finding the crossword puzzle to keep me entertained.

i went to estoria and broke something. can you guess what it was? hint: it's shiny and guys might not ever notice, simply because most don't care.

soon thereafter, i rolled over to el myr. i felt it would center me. after five margaritas, i was just about ok. a nice girl named raila [sic] was waxing all philosphical with me about politics and the like; for the most part, it was ok. for the most part, she was tiring. i deal with facts all day, in my head and without - and she just kept on pouring them in a very strange and continuous rant, where each word seemed connected to the next.

the rest is pointless to talk about. i don't dance with girls i don't know at mjq and i don't think i ever will, after what happened the last time i merely wanted to know who somebody was. i went home safe, courtesy of a good friend, and here i am, writing this all out in a form of catharsis.

good night, gentlefolk. may you hate others rubbing this "holiday" in your face as much as i do.