Shit, last cigarette. Wonder if the CVS on 8th and E is still open… As I flick the butt into the gutter, the realization of how screwed I am hits me. Of course, there’s no one but myself to blame for this. Once again waiting for a miracle, and when it didn’t happen, I act surprised. As if this hasn’t happened before…or rather, as if I hadn’t laid the groundwork to set myself up for this before now. “The definition of crazy is going through the same actions and expecting different results.” That’s an apt description of the past three years, Dr. Pruitt, and completely unhelpful. Time to take stock of my situation, maybe that will keep my mind occupied for a few minutes, push back immediate reality for a few minutes at least. First the good news: I have 165 dollars in my wallet, a credit card, a debit card and my driver’s license. Now the touch of gray on that silver lining: I’m not graduating like I told everyone, I’m effectively homeless and friendless, and I’ve been a colossal disappointment to the three people who matter most in my life. See point three (or two or four, depending on how you count). A fine mess I’ve gotten myself into this time, Ollie. I doubt anyone would get that bit. Not because I’m the only one who’s ever watched early twentieth century cinema, but because Ollie's the one who actually delivered the line. Plus, I've made it self-referential, and I intentionally used the oft-misquoted “fine mess” instead of “nice mess” which is kind of my ironic meta-commentary on the futility of lasting pop culture—wait a minute. Christ, I had this same conversation with myself last time I ran out of smokes. Dr. Pruitt’s right. Something’s gotta change. Forget CVS. I’m going to 7-11.
Opening: AZ.....Continuation: Blogless_Troll