Coffee stocks are up this week, according to the muted business news in the cafe I had breakfast in. And, I can’t say they’re wrong. Had three cups myself this morning.
Just popped into work long enough to restart some computers to finalize their updates, now I’m watching some A.O.L. Executive mumble that merging paid streaming and advertising is going to be a wonderful and lucrative future.
Guess that’s always the bit of this that made me so god damned tired.
But hey, those coffee stocks are rising.
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Now, I ain’t been much for reckonin’ as of late, but I got me a good one brewin’. Been poundin’ this still a good long while, ‘n those rivets gave me a scare or two when the pressure came, but the whole rigs’ holdin’ pressure with the best of ’em, ‘n that slow patient drip’s gone and started up.
Just a few more months ‘n we’ll have somethin’ to drink.
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Mostly, I bus for a dinner theatre. Walkin’ ’round with about fifty pound on my hips, cleanin’ up after seems like at least fifty people a night. Muscle’s getting’ lean, water weight’s gone ‘n exited through the gift-shop, ‘n I’ve been savin’ up on that old school charm, somethin’ to make the wallets of those 50+ majority split like ends.
They like when I meet their eyes ‘n smile, when I take their arm so they can feel my muscle tone “without me noticing”, when I make routine jokes out of earshot of the last table I told them to.
Almost became a Kirby Salesman, but I ran levyward when I learned my soon-to-be-boss was somethin’ of a con-artist.
Told me when I interviewed that I was more than qualified.
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Look, I know you don’t have access to your sever-side SQL library, but what I’m telling you is that the client print .dll that you’re using is from an outdated version, and it’s the reason I’ve had to leave all these consoles completely susceptible to massive security flaws, and it’s the reason I’ve had to downgrade all our systems an O.S. Version, and it’s the reason your print functions aren’t consistent.
If you would get off your ass and get access, it would be fixed with about a day’s effort.
I’ve spent about 16 days making it work from the other end, and it still ain’t reliable.
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No, it’s true.
I miss working outside, but with all the heat exhaustion I’ve had, I worry that I won’t be able to do it much anymore. There ain’t a thing like it though, not a damn thing.
Them huff-humid days that brighten when a soft breeze comes gentle off the water, knowing the work put into every flowerbed.
Miss it more than sex, if I’m honest.
Don’t know if I’m honest though.
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Been walkin’ to work more ‘n more as the weather warms. Takes about two hours ‘n the better part of a liter of water, but I always was a thirsty one.
By my count, I pass one homeless shelter, three churches, one local grocery, eight restaurants, eleven specialty shops, two gas stations, two schools (one college, one elementary), the county’s oldest furniture store (established 1912, or somesuch), six fraternity houses, a veterinary clinic, a CPA’s office, a television station, a retirement home, two auto-shops, two condemned buildings too expensive to knock down, three dedicated apartment buildings, one city limit, ‘n all the time in the world.
But them coffee stocks are rising.
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Beautiful woman is sittin’ across from me, sharin’ a few smokes, ‘n too many jokes. Don’t know if she’s nervous or just a talker, but she’s fillin’ the silence.
‘n she’s got too many stories I’ve heard from too many women.
So I don’t talk much.
She don’t seem to mind. She keeps tellin’ more, ‘n I listen to every one, liking her more with each word. Feelin’ that swept up victory when she finally gets to his name, ‘n the way her lips kiss those phonemes as they leave, tells me it’s love.
I ain’t ever been one to take anyone’s happiness when I knew better, but I hadn’t understood how happy she was until just now.
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I’m tired.
We got sag tired buildings doin’ more good for miles than the glistenin’ offices with those convertibles in space nine. ‘n I know I ain’t the first to notice that, but it don’t make it less true.
We got those coffee stocks risin’ as workers work the blear from their eyes ‘n start another day of bein’ paid like their work don’t matter.
And it’s always the money that’s the answer.
‘n I don’t think there’s a puppet master up to tricks, just that we keep buyin’ this.
We’ll go broke eventually,
just don’t know if I’ll see it.
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Jack London’s a beautiful dog, after all.
All the company I can stand anymore.
Too young to have my joints creakin’ like this,
too poor to live like I got anything worth the livin’.
‘n them coffee stocks is risin’,
‘n they’ll be puttin’ ads in content I already paid for,
‘n it’ll always be ’bout the #1.
Yeah, Jack’s a beautiful dog.
He’n I like a good wander in them Alaskan woods.
