Monday, May 12, 2008
Two ten in the morning.
Just got in from San Francisco a few hours ago.
Bill Roberts, Soheyl Dahi, Jordan, Jason, Kim . . .
all memories now. Memories of a weekend in San Francisco.
I’m listening to the fan blow behind me. It isn’t particularly hot in here, truth is it’s rather cool here on the coast. I just like the sound of the fan.
My legs hurt. I have Restless Legs Syndrome. The skin bubbles with the movement of the muscles underneath… I suffer without any worries. I’ve had this my entire life. I hardly notice the pain anymore. However, at times the pain becomes annoying.
The people I hung with this weekend all have real lives. Real pay checks. Last year I made $8,000. The year before that I made $1,200.
I’m beginning to see that there are people who make what I call a year’s income in a month of their working, or even in just a week. No one I know only makes $1,200 per year. I just don’t get it. I don’t know how I got so poor, and how I stay this way. I just don’t get it.
Tonight I’m left with good memories, exhaustion, sore legs, and the sound of the fan.
