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BAM! in la vie de TKP
Wow, that was really surreal.
I just got fired from my job. Like, two minutes ago, I was told, starting tomorrow, no more job. It was a PRN job which I guess means they used me on an "as needed" basis, which I guess means they can fire me with no warning? Or can you always fire someone without warning? A bunch of other people are getting shafted with Whatever Is Happening too; a bunch of the OR techs were just told they would only need to be there during actual surgery, which means they only need to be there for several hours a week, and some basically don't need to be there any more at all. But it's weird; it's confusing, and everybody except me is really sad but they're not acting that way.
I am not actually sad because this was a very temporary job that I was afraid I was going to get myself stuck in because I was too lazy to do anything about it. But now I'm going to be back in the flaily I-don't-know-what-to-do mode, the one where I know an English major can get jobs that pay, but I don't want to do anything except write, get published, be a big movie director, tango in Argentina with
seraphcelene, open a bakery with my friend, be a big time editor, be a professor, study in India, start a cultural renaissance with my brother and s-i-l, live with nuns in the Alps, ride elephants in Malaysia, get a cabin in a woods somewhere and be creepy, be in a poet/author circle like the Beats or the Romantics or something, make a POTO movie with
my_daroga, establish my Universal Theory Of Fiction, touch people's lives, and eat ice cream.
I just got fired from my job. Like, two minutes ago, I was told, starting tomorrow, no more job. It was a PRN job which I guess means they used me on an "as needed" basis, which I guess means they can fire me with no warning? Or can you always fire someone without warning? A bunch of other people are getting shafted with Whatever Is Happening too; a bunch of the OR techs were just told they would only need to be there during actual surgery, which means they only need to be there for several hours a week, and some basically don't need to be there any more at all. But it's weird; it's confusing, and everybody except me is really sad but they're not acting that way.
I am not actually sad because this was a very temporary job that I was afraid I was going to get myself stuck in because I was too lazy to do anything about it. But now I'm going to be back in the flaily I-don't-know-what-to-do mode, the one where I know an English major can get jobs that pay, but I don't want to do anything except write, get published, be a big movie director, tango in Argentina with

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I DID THE SAME THING.
Sometimes I think we share a brain. And then I worry about you.
I don't usually enjoy straight up poetry either, but I like stories that read like poetry. Like yours.
Here is VK's tongue. I like it too.
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brains: I do the same and then worry about you. Wait.
stories: Thanks. I do too. Like yours. Wait...
VK's tongue: just fucking needs to be sucked on already, jesus
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Can I suck on his tongue? Wait. I don't really want to. Uhm. Can I pay some larger handsome fellow to do it for me while I film it and show it every Christmas?
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Yeah, I give you my leave, only make sure there are money shots of his collar and hip bones and the arch of his back when there's a hand at his cock and clear reception for the helpless sounds he makes while he's getting manhandled, kthx.
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