this is now

smoky dinner with a most beautiful banker
too much in my opinion of a dreamer to be slicing and dicing numbers all day. she shrugs but thinks the same my spirit disappears into ether. leaves you wondering why you do anything that you do when at the end of the day you just do it you could like anything and dislike even more like life could just be giant facebook trawling through people's lives which will always seem more interesting than they are and your life will always seem like you wasted time watching other people but that's what you have to do, right? watch. listen. think about think with and feel, even through alien cities and crackly phone lines you must contort your gut to ache with them and exult with them but you're just sleepy really and you just don't want your sentences interrupted and unsolicited advice and the smell of other people on your clothes. but it happens.

a fellow misanthrope wants me to die drowning in commas because I'm clearly saving them for a grander purpose