Clunge

This past week has been somewhat overwhelming. Sometimes in the infinite conversational miasma we find ourselves taking notice to the most insignificant. Or creating significance out of a void that was expanding faster than we care to acknowledge. It all started when a co-worker, resembling this man asked me what I had fucked up in my former life to end up here, at the Waffle House. I was amused, admittedly. The days following have been tiring, involving public transportation, Whole Foods (cheese tasting and chocolate truffles), public drunkeness at the bus station/emotional tourism.

Excited this finally came out:

I enjoy talking with you, even if it feels more like a seance.
If yr idea of fun is waiting in a holding cell for someone to give you the reacharound or you wouldnt know fun if slapped a restraining order on you.