Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Failure of the Day: Errands

For some reason I can't manage to get my ass to the post office. It's 2 blocks away. It's not raining. I'm still just sitting in my chair.

Yesterday, I managed to get a good bit of editing done during work hours, buy cigarettes and a loaf of bread, become so outraged at Well Fargo for being incredibly rude to me and wanting to charge me $3 a month for the privlege of opening a savings account that I went to BofA and set up all new banking accounts with them for no other reason than the lady at the desk was nice to me, and stop by H&R Block to star gathering information about paying taxes as an independent contractor.

Today, I've managed to take a shower. I've also edited my ass off and wrote a good portion of ch 13 of the Word 2003 book (which I think I'm allowed to say now because the fact that the MS Office update exists is posted on the Microsoft web site). For some reason, that's about the extent of what I'm capable of today. I am a one-woman lumpen proletariat. Heavy on the lumpen.

Fuck the post office. That's what I say. I am Punk Rock., so I say fuck the post office. Hey, PG&E, you'll get your money when I'm damn good and ready to give it to you. You got that? I'm going to make the pesto sauce mix we got this weekend and have dinner and then work on my novel. The post office? What post office? Today, there is no such thing as the post office. So there. Success of the Day: Selective myopia.

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