Nice tie, cubicle bitch.

I don't have a cubicle, by the way.

I started my first Day Job today. (Working for the university system, if you've ever done it you'll know, obviously doesn't count.) What time did I get there? 9. What time did I leave? 5. Did I earn vacation time? lil bit. Did anyone see my tattoos? No--but when we all get free rooms at the Pointe South Mountain next Saturday on "The Company" they might catch me'n Jesus & all my buddies floatin' down the Lazy River and then they'll probably stop talking to me like they think I'm... I don't really know what: whatever it is, tho, it's odd. Like I'm sweet & innocent instead of the guy who lost Cal Baptist's Presidential Race, 2004. Mr. Gore, I, too, was robbed. I feel your pain. // Really tho, so far my job's been two hours of passwords written down and six hours of a crash course in Labor & Immigration law.

I'm reading Bolano's The Savage Detectives and it's slaughtering me so far--I forgot some novels are actually worth reading. Between poetry, philosophy, and nonfiction, tho, I have to admit to the novel's second-tier status in my heart. Bolano wouldn't mind my saying so. It's the same for him.