sprig’s spring fig

i did not go into my last day at my cosmetic job this morning. i spent last night sipping a drink called “the sidecar” mostly brandy in a martini glass; the bartender saying “don’t call it a martini!” pontificating my final day on the job. why is it that this antiquated sense of bizarre loyalty is ingrained in my pysche, especially towards a job which is a corporate monster? logically, i recognize this is something i don’t believe in. emotionally, i still feel as though i am letting some sort of machine down.

i have a meeting with my “editor” at 4. that means i need to go print his most recent draft by 3. it is 2:04 and i need to clean my room and prepare for this weekend. my oldest brother is moving to the virgin islands, again. i will go and wish him off, then head down to new york to look for an apartment and for a workshop on saturday morning. then i will either head to boston, or stay for a friends show at MoMA.

the sun is shining, i feel lethargic and uncertain. i fear complacency, but know it is not an option.

what i want:

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