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02.01.03 @ 12:14 a.m. // conversations with my esophagus.
and so, i begin my february the way any february really ought to commence: lengthy, tiresome discussions with my stomach as to what is and what is not the standard migratory path of salad and toast. the purpose of my opening statement is to convey two things. one, i've never thought much of february. two, i'm sick. kiss me. i spent my afternoon looking at addresses for companies in need of photographers. i spent my evening being petitioned to drive 1000 miles right now, get there, get ready, and take copious wedding pictures tomorrow at noon. this is ridiculous in so many ways, and not just because i'd be crossing seven state lines with an expired license. i was going to use this paragraph to wax eloquent about my future, but i don't think i will. i will say that when i abandon my usual tactic of denying its existence, the future terrifies me. the thought of mediocrity frightens me almost as much as failure, and that's saying something. i've thought about it, and over these past seventeen years, i have found it to remain consistently applicable to every situation. that is, life would be a lot simpler if someone would do everything for me. wanted: easily influenced individual whom i may oppress, rule over with an iron fist of tyranny, and otherwise boss around. this individual is to exist solely for the completion of my every whim and desire, to happily see to it that i never exert myself ever again, and to tell me hourly how spectacularly amazing i am. will keep applications on file.  last | host | next |