They Got a Name For the Winners in the World, and I Want a Name When I Lose...

Momentarily fearful that this large scale orange gate project would be one of my last linear sequential memories. If you look at the sunlight in the photo, it was a blinding flat cold of mid February along the upper west side in Central Park. My professional life has grinded to an excruciating halt. Some technical analyst just threw a foam ball at my head. What the fuck am I doing? I'm subjected to simply waiting for this double dip recession and paltry job market to go away and kick start the roaring 90's again before I get too old and become nothing but a hard working drummer who lands in the ash can like the rest of them, Willy Loman. I brought mother to a Thai restaurant for Valentine's on 95th street but lacked the appetite to eat at regular hours. Afterwards, we crossed the street and shopped in a Rite Aid for our Valentine gifts. Mother bought me some foam 'earplugs' so I can sleep better during the day when the NYPD/FDNY abuse their sirens with noise pollution. My sweatpants were drenched again as I had them pulled up very high with t-shirt tucked in as I tried to sleep. I get my partial denture in 12 hours. Hay is old enough now to become skeptical of the condition of sentience but she hides it well from Curious.