don't fuck with michael jackson

Earlier this evening, as I was walking back from a Chinese restaurant with my manager's food, I kept passing lots of restaurants filled with people not too far from my age sitting with friends and eating. Gophering my manager's dinner past these dinner scenes led into a train of thought that went something along the lines of: I am so lame . . . I have been in this city for seven months or so now working at the Strand and have not even applied to one other job . . . I want a real daytime job so I can eat dinner at dinner time, so I can quit thinking two paychecks ahead of this one about how I am going to pay all the various bills I have.

And it was during this depressing train of thought that I passed a boy, and as soon as I passed him, I realized that it was my crush, Christopher. And I thought about whether I should call after him and say hi. I thought about this for a long time. Too long a time to actually do anything. And so, I kept walking back to work, filled now with not only self-loathing but a potent mixture of desire and loneliness (and the two are probaby the same at the root).

Then I started thinking about how perfect that was, just fucking perfect, that right as I am thinking about how much my life sucks, here walks by another aspect of my life practically screaming, "Hey, don't forget about me! While you're berating yourself, add to the list, your appaling lack of luck with boys." And I kid you not, right at this second as I was thinking about the timing of Christopher's appearance, I tripped over a curb. That's what you get for navel-gazing, I guess.

I have been sick. I still am, sort of. For this reason, I have not been in tip-top shape in any respect. Tomorrow, I will be better and the world will look rosy again. The world will look fucking sexy. When you are sick, nothing has sex appeal - you're a zombie with a soft dick, stumbling around the streets, mumbling grunts, coughes, and sneezes. Your body is too busy fighting off those viruses to get hot for all the amazing stimuli this world has to offer a young person, and hopefully tomorrow with the assistance of some more cold medicine tonight, I will be able to see the sexiness in each and every motherfucking last one of you.

PS: Have you guys heard the new Missy album? I stopped into Virgin today to listen to it, and it is so fucking fun. I have to get down to Canal Street to see if I can find a copy, and then I can dance my sickness away.