My Day

::mood::nervous and unsettled
::music::the low buzz of coffee house chatter
::mood::waiting on a phone call, procrastinaing making one
::music::waltz in b minor by chopin, as played by naomi in the other room
::mood::on a coffee high, hence the nervous-twitch-like fleetingness reminiscent of a buzzing hummingbird, only not quite so elegant
::music::my own thoughts waxing eloquent in my head, as they so often do after reading old literature and stimulating myself with [much] coffee

I am waiting on a phone call from J.D. Young regarding my interview of last thursday. I am optimistic, yet i am doing my best to keep my hopes at bay.

For they may be dashed to the floor in a few moments, sentencing me to continue my groveling existence at UPS, killing myself slowly beneath the weight of a thousand boxes.

Or, in that same moments time, I could become the recipient of joy unspeakable. Elevated to that position of my longing and most fulfilled imagination. In that case, there will be [much] celebration and rejoicing.

Not even the barrage of a fall cleaning in full swing, which at once exudes agony and incessant frustration and slavery, and yet requires, nay, extracts every ounce of effort and participation from all within vibe-reach much like a black hole consuming the nothingness of outer space. Not even this ‘event’, so to speak will be able to render my joy impotent.

Meanwhile I continue faithful to the task of becoming part of the deep-house-cleaning, eradicating the piles of stuff that have set around for two months now as I steadily resist becoming adjusted to the life at home. Which brings me full circle: if this call is positive in nature, my plans to quit said home living will proceed in full force.

“Single male seeking roommate. Classy downtown apartment. Rent/Utilities split 50/50. Prefer serious, yet fun-loving, open-minded conservative. Serious inquiries call 888.321.7654.”

whatever…

(this being the second time I have re-written this post due to ignoble computer failure, I now feel on the verge of expressing myself to this piece of machinery after the fashion of a fourth generation sailor, using words I only once heard escape my grandfathers mouth upon the high seas, and only when he thought I was not within earshot)