lucky

I'm on a roll,
I'm on a roll this time
I feel my luck could change.

Kill me girl,
kill me again with love,
it's gonna be a glorious day.

Pull me out of the aircrash,
Pull me out of the lake,
I'm your superhero,
we are standing on the edge.

The head of state has called for me by name
but I don't have time for him.
It's gonna be a glorious day!
I feel my luck could change.

Pull me out of the aircrash,
Pull me out of the lake,
I'm your superhero,
we are standing on the edge.

We are standing on the edge.

lucky/radiohead

today started shite. I woke a bit earlier than usual - scratch, I set the alarm a bit earlier than usual... 6:15 am. I slapped the snooze and power dove my face back into the pillow from an angle that fucking snapped my neck. for a spark of a second I questioned if I'd Christopher Reeve'd myself (I didn't... why does he look like robocop/billy corgan in that photo?). This was my first conscious thought of October 12th.

I was really looking forward to seeing him walk again. Like in that one CGI commercial.

shit, this ices my plans to remake "Superman III" with Christopher Reeves and Richard Pryor and their wheelchairs getting shoved at each other (ala "Battle Bots").

damn.

dragged my ass out of bed, carried Trek Fuel 90 frame (sold for $510 on e-bay) and my portfolio to the car. lit a cigarette. drove to lake shore drive. got rear-ended by some stupid left-wing bitch (car covered with anti-bush stickers... over 20 stickers qualifies as "covered," right?). I was at a dead stop in gridlock. she hit me from 3 mph. maybe she was lighting a one-hitter, sipping fair-trade coffee, and turning up NPR when she should've been watching the fucking road at 3 mph. I saw that there was no damage to the back of my plastic car and took her insurance information anyways. she wrote it on the back of a bar tab from 1:45 am this morning.

got to work. got caffinated. got work done. got tired. ate super china grade fried rice and mustard chicken at food court with co-workers. got back to work. cut out of work. went to bike store. got free box from generous bike mechanic with zero attitude (rare). boxed up bike. bought riding socks out of graditude. took boxed bike to post office to be weighed. line too long. brought box back to work. stupid blondes on floor stared at large box, perplexed. worked for one hour. left work for "dental appointment." went to headhunter. heard about agency writing job. showed writing samples. discussed presentation to agency for employment. headhunter was early 40's blonde - most likely divorced - admitted to being a stand-up comic - not funny/most likely insane. had appearance of being an open to suggestion/location/position date at bar time. got good enough idea about agency job/client/approach. will submit work/approach no later than thursday quiting time.

tomorrow or thursday sarah (the crazy one who lost her job after burning bacon in the workplace kitchen and now works at a coffee place until waxing education at aveda starts) and I are going to go see A Dirty Shame about the sex fiends. I will bring a flask of whisky for the large pepsi.