the bruise
I sat there at my desk talking to Tom Vines about how much I needed money to get my musical career off of the ground.I lapsed into a fit of furious scheming and planning. I could sell off everything I own and I would still need money. I may have to live in a van to save the money I spend on rent.
While I was thinking I rubbed my nose thoughtlessly.
The girl from HR brought the certificates for our stock options to us. I have 15000. I made more money in the time it took me to sign the certificate than they are worth.
I looked over at Tom after she left.
"Dude what's on your nose?" he asked.
"I don't know." I wiped my nose.
"No, you have like a marker or blood on your nose or something. Go to the bathroom."
I went and looked in the mirror. I washed my face. It would not come off.
I rubbed a fucking bruise in my nose worrying about how the fuck I am going to pay for all the crap I need to pay for.
Isn't that just marvellous?
Then, after I left work, I drove off of a gas pump with the hose still in my car. It ripped the fucker right out of the pump. That's going to cost me.
At band practice Greg broke one of my cables, but Nate really played well, and the songs sounded good.
I feel good.
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