So I’m sitting here at the cafe, 10pm at night drinking my typical 2 dollar coffee. I’m making plans. Trying to be productive at all costs. As far as actually writing is concerned this will have to qualify, tonight business is setting up routines and plans. Gotta get back to submitting things.
It’s been possibly the longest week at work, and this weekend feels so short. Feels accounted for and nearly over. But I’m not even making plans. I’m not trying to figure out when I’m going to do anything.
Right now, it’s just me and coffee. Me and the dark brown overlord of calm. Me and a free ticket to “get the fuck out of your headsville”. Oh yea this is good shit.
I like these moments. It’s the one time I don’t mind be alone. So I’m actually sitting here writing double, pulling it old school at the same time. That’s my chicken scratch over there. I’m writing about the horrible connection problems I was having at the cafe ad the exact opposite stuff I was just talking about, not planning. Ah hypocrisy I love thee so.
I could just sit here for eternity snapping pics and blogging, if only.
Whelp, the weekend just begins. Time to zone out and day dream some more.