Living Surrealism

There's nothing worse than having a roadblock tell you why you're stuck.

I woke up slightly less half dead; the only agenda was to pick up even more of that precious money I was still so fucking grateful for.

I took all three buses to get there and when I walked in, it was as if for the first time...why the hell did  I work here again? The transaction wasn't the drama I sarcastically envisioned; it was cold and right to the point...almost a couple hundred dollars and still a bit more to come...muted feelings of momentary happiness as I walked out the door minutes later...then a halting sting of defeat as I remembered his words last night..."that's why you're here..." it made me want to kill myself so he'd be left with no one. I've basically survived, so why can't he?
Street styling cheered me up afterwards...I hate when I miss a shot though; this time it was pink coral brogues and opaque black tights, the rest was a beautiful ode to the season...I should have stopped her...she was walking so slow, I could have simply caught up with her and snapped away...but maybe I lost my nerve? I don't know...nothing seems as compelling as it used to be.

shoes...Gee WaWa Fatales