New York City 1948


8:59 p.m.-2001-03-30

is this what getting old is about

Ugh responsibilities. More work, without the more pay to go along with it. Sleeping even less than usual. This had better pay the fuck off.

I just wanna get up on stage and make dick and titty jokes. Degrading myself in front of others for their amusement. Get a few commercial deals. Make appearances on a few shows. Maybe get to act in some indie movies. Basically do goofy shit and get paid for it.

I just wanna draw psychdelic abstract doodles. Frenetic dark painting. Dangerous looking sculpting. Spray paint buildings where rich people live and toil stealing from the public to get richer.

I wanna write poems and short stories. Read in front of college crowds and old folks homes. Spreading my particular type of wisdom and insight. Corrupting the minds of youngsters who sneak my publications into the bathroom and behind their history textbook in class.

I wanna see the world, on and off psychotropic substances. Wake up and fall asleep when the mood takes me. Get lost on the streets of some foreign neighboorhood. Dining with locals where we'll eat stuff that westerners frown at. Shake the hands of peasants.

But here I am becoming a techno-organic being. Developing skills. Taking on tasks for future job security. Finding interest in how my stocks are doing. Eating the daily grind.

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