creative prowess

I've got my kicks back, babe, I'm drunk.
My second-command-boss (SCB) grabbed me a beer from the communal kitchen. For our office, secretly, cos' we're better than everyone else and deserve it,

which is true, but them all been gone 'long the young weekend. Ghost town, tenth floor Friday. Maybe they met up at Ulysses? Grab an oyster and a beer, the day is DONE.

"I'm finished! It's OVER," says Dan, "Let's get some alcohol, some drugs, some hookers...what else can we get? Some e? Some ecstacy?"

Hah! I realize: I love the guy. The understanding sense, in the extraordinary all-encompassing lavish-in-the-glow-of-someone's-existence that makes me want to yell,

"WAIT! STOP THE SHOW! Dan...you're amazing. Thank you. Ok: resume!"

Also, I'm lightly drunk and taken (two)vivanse(registeredT).

I wanted to do the same thing with SCB; I hugged him when he passed me a beer. We've all got a couple rounds.

Instead, I say. Listen to "Oxford Comma", Dan.
Is it on the same album?
Yeah, I'll bring it in Monday.
Hear of a group called The Von Bondies?

I'm editing the resume of a kind (convivial) co-worker on wall street.
I haven't been here since last week.


Why? I don't know....I couldn't. Couldn't find the courage. I've got a hint: I haven't worked since the housing appeal on Monday. I haven't written since, either. I haven't collapsed, dramatic, but I have been fairly miserable (in the short run), hrown up three times yesterday, once while running, and the energy/god has gone, darlin.

I wrote my second-command-boss yesterday: I show it to Danny for amusement:

Dear Dion,

You know a really interesting social phenomena? It's called the paradigm of increasing awkwardness (PIA). In other words, when one is awkwardly absent for any period of time in a group setting (school, or work, for example), they experience increased awkwardness upon return. I believe the actual formula goes: ([time of arrival] + [number of days missing])^2 x [the number of square inches covered in scary tattoos that hint at recent cult membership].

Anyway, so this PIA is creating a strong reluctance to attend work, which is rather sad if you think about it. I think PIA has also become exacerbated by my confusion on what would be the best task to focus on. I was wondering if I could be trained to take calls, like Jen, or if there were any other such specific writing tasks. If I could start brainstorming on how to set up the blog in relation to the new website, that would be good, too. I'm asking this because I'm kind of stuck on those financial articles, so to avoid looking angrily at a blank screen, I often find myself working on personal projects and short stories. If no one minds, that's beyond fantastic, but I needed to bring that to your attention, silly as I might sound. I really respect and like Frontier, and I wouldn't want you to disappoint you, and Michael, by not meeting expectations.

Sincerely,
Marie


"Were you on something when you wrote that?" asks Dan.
"Um. No. That was just my personality," (I-kid!I kid!I-joke-with-you!), "I think my personality can be more harmful than anything else I know,"
"More harmful than bullets?"
"No. Definitely not. My personality is significantly less harmful than bullets. Much less harmful.".
"That's good then."

I need to relax. I know that, I know. I just...I need to get it out there, you know?

"It's been such a weird week"
"Why?"
"I don't know. I...I...I'm sorry, I sound like an idiot. I really don't know. I mean...it's like this stage..this NOT ME...phase...or not not me, just...ugh. Um...like, I ran to 96 pier yesterday. 54 street and 10 avenues, and the whole way- everything I saw- everything, it reminded me of something I couldn't do, or failed to do, or wasn't good enough...I dunno".
"You're too young to be jaded".
"Yeah, jaded, exactly"
"It's also..like, there's a week of school left. And I feel like I should have done fucking something with the summer. Written about...life, the universe, everything- catch the Douglass Adams reference?"
"Who?"
"The Hitchhiker's Guide? You need to read it"
"Hmm...the meaning of life, I came up with that once".
"...really?," I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Yeah, it was when I had an apartment, right nearby here. It was on on 45 wall street, me and my buddy craig cohen were up to three hours of the morning. We were doing some bad things. And we were postulating to 'what is god?' You know? And i came up with this sick sick sick conclusion, I loved it. I started thinking that God was energy and all energy was god. We still talk about that sometimes."

He grins.

So.

Dear friends, how to harvest energy? Teach me. Someone. Please.

Fuck it, I'll listen to Dan describe a candidate with 5 children and a life long membership to the NRA. Play the white stripes, Dan. Seven nation army. Thanks.

Manfred brings his siege back tonight. Cheers, babe.