13.2.10

& other poems

there's not a lot going on at work. (is there ever? i have only had one job that required actual work more than 30% of the time. i know this is lucky; i'm just pointing out the consistency in my employment. i often get paid to read.)

pablo picasso wrote poetry. did you know that? i bought his book of poems at a record store. (i'm a musician who buys books at record stores.) it's very bizarre, very abstract, very much like his paintings. i'm not sure if i'll get through the book. i'm trying out lots of books this days, getting through most, but not all, of them. this is the year to become exceptionally well-read, among other things.

tomorrow is valentine's day, and i have never been more apathetic towards a holiday, and it's not in that single-person's-angst kind of way. it's just that i don't think i would even remember about its existence if other people didn't talk about it. (much like groundhog's day - i am never aware of when that shit goes down.)

someday i'll get a job where it's perfectly okay to read and absorb information all day with no repercussions. where that's actually my job. and then i'll just spit it out as songs, as poetry, as whatever.

oh, dreams.

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