breaking the long radio silence...

it's one in the morning and all's well more or less in austin. as you might know, sxsw has officially come to town dragging hordes of hipsters and various other trendy bastards with cool shades and badges saying they've payed a lot of money to come and shit here for a few days. luckily, my career path has diverted from world saviour/ highschool teacher to its current incarnation as, what?... busser. at this allnight diner. graveyard shift. so, at least i'll be making money off 'em.

the career path has turned out to be a treacherous road actually(just go with the flow and be blissfully ignorant of spelling errors). my first occupation landed me in the basement of this dorm making coursepackets for a whole new round of brats. i lasted about 8 days maybe before reaching some limit of soul defication. it could have been the fact that i was in a basement for 12 hours a day, the fact that i never saw the sun, or the big nigerian sob running around, yelling, waving his cigarette in my face. but could i smoke? nooooo. anyway, whatever the cause was, the night of the 8th day, morning of the 9th day, night of the 9th day, and morning of the 10th day found me and two friends at various stages of a bottle, singing anarcist punk songs and yelling to whoever would listen all the ills of this sad world. it was actually very theraputic in a self-destructive way.

my next foray into the jungle we like to call an 'honest man's pay', was much more pleasant, but as is usually the case, less lucrative. being raised in austin, working at a thrift store has always been a dream of mine. never in my wildest dreams did i realize how cool it was. so, when a friend of a friend of mine asked me to work his shop for a few weeks before it closed down, i gladly accepted. being the only employee, there were certain perks. the store was open when i was there. and that was whenever i wanted to be there. usually one of my brothers would stop by to sm#^@ me out, or somebody else would. my 'boss' would usually roll by about five with some beer. and i got a turntable and a bike out of it. but, keep in mind, not a lucrative field to go into.

now i have the graveyard bus gig. i spend my days sitting at coffee shops doing late gradschool applications, trading stories with the other soldiers from the ranks of the sporatically employed. now now i'm on my third glass of box wine trying to fall asleep. and i'll tell you what, after two years of carlsberg, it still tastes good. if you fell asleep reading all this nonsense, i don't blame you, so just give me a call(yep, got a cell phone) at 512-589-6758.

kudos to all the other insomniacs this wendsday morning

dan