Mornings afters and walks of shame, the bartender knows me by my real name... I decided that I'm selling my cd collection. tough choice, but I have it all on itunes and media player anyways and I figure I should get a good chunk of change. a couple of cd's I'm gonna try to sell on ebay because they are out of print and heard a couple of years ago they were going for like 50 bucks. probably not going for that anymore but I figure I might still get more than what the average price second spin is gonna give me. I have over 500 cds. 450 which are hip hop. Thats what I'm doing tonight- scanning them all in to sell to this website. gonna take a while. Also gonna sell my dj hero game- you had to figure I owned that right?
I also saw on monster today a posting for a writer's job. To go and do reviews of bars and clubs and other happenings in SD. Not sure how it works but they want grammatically correct shit. I guess I could try and fix my writing issues with spell checks. Its the whole paragraph thing I have problems with. Maybe when I get a job I'll throw down some money and actually take some more writing courses. I remember Joel and me took a creative writing course once and the highlight of it was when I wrote a play. About a night of working at a gas station. 2 main characters one of which sold cocaine on the side. I remember thinking people wouldn't understand why a coke dealer would work a normal job, so I gave him some morals. He had three rules. Never sell to school kids, Never sell to pregnant chicks, and stop selling to anyone that was losing everything in order to get high. He spends the night talking about not liking the notoriety of being a dealer to his co worker, which is why he also worked at the gas station and also talked about how he was just doing it to get through college. He wanted to end up being a teacher. Things happen throughout the night, a drunk guy, a robber, a lost family on vacation all make appearances. Anyways out of all the bullshit I wrote, this is the one that got the attention of the whole class. I should have ran with it. Instead I just sipped on the morgan and punch I would take to class to get through the critique sessions. Who knows I'm not dead yet- I am only 32. Maybe I'll end up writing my own version of Factotum. Charles Bukowski was cool.
You wanna talk about trashy reality tv? I am watchin swamp people. Trashy and boring- not one of the History channel's highlights. I do like me some Pawn Stars. Anyways I'm off to start my fire sale. :(
Wish I could find that play. Its somewhere here in the vaults. And sometimes I just really wish I could say what I wanna say instead of writing it.
Pour me another. Atmosphere. Maybe if I start throwing the lyrics you people might finally understand what the fascination is all about.
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