Life and Shit

So, in lieu of getting a job (since bastards in Jasper won't hire me), I'm selling crap on Ebay.

The mountains suck. They're pretty for a while, but they lack anything a 20 year old male would find entertaining. I want to go swimming. BADLY. There's not even a stream nearby for canoeing.

I've been running regularly since there's no gym up here either. I'm going to have massive calves; everything up here is a hill. I could also use some booze badly. Parents' house = prohibition.

Sorry this is nothing great. There is literally nothing to write about up here. Unless you want an essay on avian wildlife, cause that's about it. Oh, and Augustus. He's the cat living on our front porch that showed up randomly one day. I'll post a picture soon.

Until then, read this blog. It's awesome:
http://www.chrishatesfreedom.com/

Sayonara.

Job Searching Sucks

So, job search summary:

Lowes: No dice
Radioshack: Not likely
Starbucks (Canton): Nope
Longhorn: Talking with the manager Tuesday
Michaels: Nothing yet
Famous Footwear: Uh-uh

Applications turning in soon:
Home Depot (Canton and Jasper)
Gamestop
Starbucks (Elijay)

Applications I'm picking up soon:
Red Lobster
Applebees

Dammit dammit dammit. I need a job.

Eleventh Hour

I wrote a poem, and I actually liked this one. Cheers.


Eleventh Hour

Looking up from our sometime midnight post,
Seeing tangled, dangling cypress serpents
Cover up the silent man in the moon,
Puffing the evening through a wooden bowl,
I wonder What is that which comes too soon?

Cicadas sing their dirge of midnight mourn,
Bereavement for a life that lasts mere weeks.
Their small insect lives are culminated
Upon sidewalk, leaking a black-ant stream--
That marching river is a Rubicon.

We are not Caesar; we have no armies,
Nor Socrates; we have but weak wisdom.
Haunted by visions of Ivan's death bed,
My voice craves to disturb the universe:
To thrice roar against what I do not know.

Instead, my protest is suspended by
The candid voice of a triumph's slave.
The sweet-thick smoke lingering by my skull
Whispers in my ear memento mori.
Though widely known, I've heard a secret.

The tobacco haze thins and dissipates,
My personal Styx and aiding spirit
Float away on the currents of the evening.
If you're present when I, too, drift away,
Hear my soul sigh alia iacta est.