the new late night phone call

3:15 in the morning. My eyes are about to go on strike. We are in last minute negotiations, they want rest, I want more work. I am prepared to hire scabs. I know some people, their families are hungry, they wouldn't mind reading blogs and myspace pages all night long. In fact, they would love to. I hope if my eyeballs do strike the other unions don't try to show any solidarity. The brain seems into not letting things affect him, at least lately. And the liver, he's on a leave of absence. Sort of like Joe from Joe versus the Volcano, just no sunkist or whatever. (I just realized I don't know why Joe stops working in that movie, oh well.) It's those pesky fingers that I worry about. They are always trying to rally all the other unions together. They are some real motherfuckers, could be why I like them so much.

BREAKING NEWS: EYES AGREE TO KEEP WORKING. WORKDAYS 23 MINUTES SHORTER!


Now that all of that is settled, the post. My life is nothing but late night phone calls. At least now it is. It's either calls from friends to warn of cops, or calls from cops to warn about friends, or guys who don't like my taste in things, like blog titles or figures or sports teams, or girls wondering where I am, or people looking for money, or my dad looking for money. My life is all of those things. And for good measure there are also the late night calls I wish would be made. But my phone doesn't ring with those numbers or names. And I don't use those numbers either, even though it is all I think about. (side note: good to see being sober doesn't hinder my poor decision making abilities or curb my tendencies of crazy.) I don't wake up thirsty for water, just someone's voice. Someone who wants me to be with them, wants me dead, or wants me to die with them. It's not a horrible thing to wish for. Besides, I have free nights and weekends.