Work.

My schedule has not been conducive to writing.

I have to work to pay my bills and rent and food and weed and tobacco.

The things that make me content with life.

Today was a day, it was gravy as could be, but something was off, and it was me.

I used to be the dude that walked behind his boss as his boss was looking for him. Too him two hours before I let him find me.

That was when I was 19. At 50, I am a good employee, and today, I felt ashamed.  I fit in with the rest of the shitty employees. 

Empath.

I ride the wave that is created by the rest.

Only another empath would get it, and I’m sick and tired of explaining it.

It’s interesting working as a janitor at Wal-Mart.