no complaints as of yet except for this small little job search crsis im having as of late. fucking parttime messes. no insurance. fucked up job history. and no drive. ambition. and im better then a fastfoodjoint but ill take what i can get. if i could even get that. WALKING INTO JOB INTERVIEWS WASTED. AND ALWAYS A SCORE. walk in sober. and nothing. go figa. we chatted it up a bit last night. and hes radically upset that hes scoring so much pussy. youd think a man would be happy. satisfied. but. even that ive learned never makes him happy. repeat history. and misery. for him. not so much for me. im neutral in the entire scene. and am fine with that. minus the mess of las vegas. im fine. i suppose. turning left and right and constantly meeting people who ATTEND MEETINGS. grrr blah. im not even sure if im meant to be clean right now. and all id give for a few lines of charlie. or a few puffs of cush. but alas i cant. or shouldnt. or wont. i suppose. because. homelessness is not the mess im trying to get into all over again. twice in the last 2 years and i believe im cured. sleeping on the street can definitely be beat. trust me. but. then again. theres a certain freedom that im missing right now. wandering around with the other lowlifes wasting space and time and all that whatnot. i DO NOT know what to make of any of this. i turn it around and upside and to the left in my head and all that i ever get is. NONSENSE. its like an algebra problem i cannot expect to figure. or reason with. or reason out. fuck. it. i guess. THE NIGHTMARES are getting worse. and the shakes. and the nerves. the restlessness. and all of the fucking fine mess. i detest. this would be better if i could actually write poetry. all i have is a jumble of words i perfer. bleh. I WISH THERE WERE MORE ON MY MIND. but. unfortunately. theres not much except the same questions i repeat over and over again lately. DO I STAY OR DO I GO. where to? what to? home? what home? leave sober living? leave vegas? head to california? head to pa? grrrr. i find no satisfying options presented to me thus far. except one choice remains clear. i need a fucking income. cash money. money cash. fucking foodstamps cannot pay the bills no matter how many you try to sell for a dime. back to craigslist.