mmmm

So today was a day of job interview type things. I always think these things go awful. But who knows maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. I really believe that people in the valley think I'm unemployable. I might just be too much of a weirdo. You know "too punk for metal, too metal for punk." But we shall see my friends.

The super good news of the day is, on the way back for the job adventure. I came upon a yard sale,and they had a bunch of books. FOR FREE!! So I got a bunch of Maya Angelou, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and other fun stuff like that. And of course you know that made my day.

And I had a dream last night that I was reading "100 years of Solitude" and I got a copy of that at the yard sale today. So we'll have to see what kind of little messages I find in these found jewels.

Most of the time I feel like Camus' stranger, or a character out of a Dostoyevski novel. You know completely on an isolated island of the mind, yet living among the others in a constant sort of detachment.

Here's a poem:



Words mean more to me than personal contact
does that make me too distant
and how far away am I really
could you touch me with a cloud
I feel above the world looking down
and I am comfortable with my wings
I live lovely in my dreams
in a room filled with music and books
my life is lived in a journal
my closest friend is a turtle
until my destiny is complete
I am a hermit with a smile
and of course mad style