Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As I sit here in the wake of another 80 hour work week--which is also attributing to my disdain as of late--and not having had a genuine day off in more than three months I battle writer's block and securities of social design.  Alone again . . . a tisket, a tasket that matters far more than it should, as most days I'm not home long enough to fully sleep to shake off the exhaustion.  Instead, between fits of sleeping and hustles to side streets and subways the snow begins to fall and the the air has chilled low enough to allow the truly ingenious--or cheap--to chill beer and other consumables in the open, frigid air.  I haven't resorted to that--as of yet--as my ginger beer is still in my refrigerator and every morsel of consumable food is packed and stored so that the city's real undesirables--roaches and fucking mice--can't make their way into it. Yet, on those subways from western Queens, to eastern Queens, to the Queens/Brooklyn border, to east Brooklyn, to ea...

Fair warning, you can scroll down to the pictures if you must. At this point I have to wonder if Mood Fabrics even wants my business, or well anyone's business.  Seriously. Case in point, I have 150 bucks to spend.  Twas a birthday present.  I intended on depositing the check tomorrow, on the way to campus.  Well . . . since I really am on a tight budget I would like to order the material (as A) I know what I want and B) well I'm on a budget).  I want to get about 5 yards of silk (two different prints) and four yards of lining.  There is enough to get some knit for a top and a sweatshirt. My silk ain't cheap, but let's face it . . . we all must be creative when it comes to laying out pieces on high end fabric. Yet, whenever I put something in my cart and go to find the lining, a second print, the cost of a fucking needle the contents of my cart disappear.  Then, then . . . I say hey, ya know, maybe I'll set up my online account now.  Perhap...

So, my birthday is around the corner, as in like the 16th (a week from today), and the damned day has a long and sad history of being a total shitville.  One year a friend was murdered on my birthday, a cousin was shot the day after, it has been forgotten more times than I can count, I got used samples (as in the friend's hair was in the mascara) one year (let's not talk about that), and the day after I turned 30 I broke my foot.  First broken bone at 30! So, I don't mind getting older . . . I mind shit that happens though.  My 30th year blew, in astronomical ways.  Yet, I've trudged on.  Lupus still sucks, always will, but I was once told that I'd be dead long before now.  I'm turning 37 on the 16th.  Yes, yes I am. The comics book is in formatting for press, two articles will be done this week, a third book goes for press review at the end of summer, and . . . well, things are busy and that can only mean one thing.  Life isn't too bad.  Y...