and the beat goes on

lazy afternoon
Listening to latin samba with a nice glass of red wine, admiring the trees. Trees. Can you believe it? Actual nature slouched right outside my fucking porch. Not my porch. My dad’s porch.
Back in town for my mom’s birthday. Staying for a week at the grandioso expense of de-nada.

toast? you bet. internet? you bet. Happy gilmore? yup.
I think I’m going to own my own ranch one day. Out in the west with tons of lizards. They’re the easiest to maintain, you see. None of those chickens for me. No thank you. But salamanders, now there’s some quality meat. I could sit on my steps drinking beer and eating oranges until the sun came down. portable radio next to me. My friend for the evening.
Sometimes I think I don’t even need anybody. No one. Not a one. I could be out in the desert completely isolated and as long as I had my books, I might be alright. Who knows. Maybe better than alright.
Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing in the city.
Living off of frosted flakes and ego waffles forever.

The corner stores though. That’s where it’s at. They’ve got that salsa music that just keeps beating. Right through to my speakers until I reach home. And it’s still there.

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