another day of work. it seems that every day around 3 I start to become horribly indifferent to my workload. With no due-dates or guidelines, the nature of my employment manifests itself in my struggle for motivation.
I talked to Zach today. I feel bed for him. I'd love to be there when he arrives in the G-rap and his mom asks where he'd like his stuff dropped off. Where is elmer these days? I try to go out at night to provide myself with a mental separation of "tuesday" and "wednesday." I'm afraid that without that distinct dividing point my life will become one day to the next until I find myself forcibly looking forward to things I really have no reason to look forward to. Anticipation, not alcohol or religion is the opiate of the working class.
perhaps peter will come to town tonight. I'm not sure what we'd do, but whatever it is, it's not falling asleep and waking up to go to work. My long weekend is upon me. This i will anticipate. and promptly complain when it, like most things that are so highly anticipated, does not live up to such demanding notions.
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