The Day Will Come

The art museum “opportunity” vanished into thin air as yet another illusory glimpse of things that could have been, replaced by the desolate mists of failure. Actually, the museum itself vanished. I checked it out myself. It’s gone. In its place was a barren plot of earth with a solitary cactus struggling to grow. It was spooky.

So I’ll stick it out with the “job” I “have” now. When I’m let go after the holidays, maybe a staffing service in Kansas City will miraculously pull a rabbit out of my… rabbit-hole.

Burn the land and boil the sea,
You can’t take the sky from me.

Here’s looking at February. The next phase, whatever that may be.

For now, all I can do is lie on my bed and stare at the blank ceiling, ever so carefully kindling the last, dying spark of hope without smothering it through clumsiness.

Quantum of Solace was sublime. I’m disappointed, of course, that I was unable to watch it in Kansas City with Dean as we had both dreamed about for a long time, but this summer will have plenty of opportunities to make up for it. That is, of course, if I am in Kansas City this summer, which I have no reason to assume that I will be. But in May my family is going to start charging me rent (the first year is free), so give me one reason I’d want to be living in St. Charles this summer. Give me one. What would be the possible benefits of living here by then? What, seeing my friend David once every three weeks to play PS3? Not enough.

I digress. I look forward to the day when I have the personal freedom and the financial means to drown my sorrows like James Bond did on the plane. Not exactly a spoiler here, but he was having trouble sleeping because of the events of the first film, and he was working on his sixth cocktail alone when that one scene began. Someday, that could be me. It’s good to have goals.

There are, logically, only two possible outcomes of this winter: either I will be here or I won’t.

This post is brought to you by Glenlivet. Please drink responsibly.