blah blah blah its friday.

I'm still a stress sack
I still haven't worked out this year
I still can't sleep at night
I still can't wake up in the morning
I fiend for a drink
I'm on the verge of breakdown
But I'm reading Bukowski
So I don't give a fuck

I spent a few hours at the bookstore yesterday after work. It's my favorite place to be. Time ceases while I browse. I wouldn't mind being locked up in there for a year or so. Especially if time really did cease. And the cafe stayed open. I'd just sit there, drink coffee, smoke cigs and explore.