Receipt fire

I am the master of all wedding venues. I have supreme knowledge pertaining to catering services and how many people can be seated in a room depending on its square footage and whether or not they want a dance floor. Behold my awesome power! For I can describe the same 8 amenities in dozens of different ways! But seriously… But seriously… I’m sick to death of this project, and I think it’s almost over… which is cool in a way but also sucks money wise. I hope they have something else afterward… but who fucking knows. I really don’t know. I guess I should try to contact someone about my grad school application since I still haven’t heard anything and I don’t know what the hell to do and I’ve secretly resigned myself to not getting in but I would really like to know for sure what the deal is. What’s my plan B? … No freakin’ clue bro. I feel stressed to death about a bunch of different shit honestly, but I’m trying to be chill about it. haha. yeah. nice. yeah. I really need to get my insurance application together. Fuck. My friend asked me to review his comic book script for him like over a week ago but I just haven’t gotten around to it at all, and I feel kinda guilty and like a shitty friend dick for taking so long, even though he said no hurry. ugh. Have to pay rent tomorrow, it is the day of reckoning money wise. My guts feel tight and knotted up… and not just because of that off brand pizza lunchable I just ate for dinner. Good thing pizza is a vegetable, am I right? So far I’ve been pretty successful with my quiet goal that I’m not gunna talk about on here. It feels agonizingly slow but I know it’s not really. I’m starting to be able to see it and feel it a bit. It feels nice. It requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE. But that’s okay. I should be living my life vigilantly anyway. I need to go get back to work, so I’m going to do that. Peace.

************** a number of hours later *************

Haha! here I am! I’m feeling pretty jacked on coffee still and I feel like typing more except not typing fucking wedding guide shits I want to type some type of stuff for myself. Like whatever, just to do some fucking thing you know? Just to do something different. I churned out another one and I would like to do two more before I do the sleep thing. Before I do I do I do the sleep thing. yeah. yeah. yeah. cool. That’ll bring me up to a total of 9 today, and a total of 57 all in. fifty-fucking-seven goddamn wedding venue write ups. How many words is that? how many is 500 X 57? *calculator go!*  haha it’s 28,500 words. That’s like more than halfway to a fucking novel’s worth of words in two goddamn weeks. MORE THAN HALF A NOVEL’S WORTH OF FUCKING DESCRIPTIONS OF WEDDING VENUES. WHAT? IS? MY? LIFE? EVEN?? Too bad it’s not that many words into an actual fucking novel… and instead it’s this thing that’s happening. By the time I’m done tomorrow it’s gunna be 60… or approximately 30,000 words. haha. What even? How did I write so many of these fucking things? How did I even do that?? Good job brain, you’re some kind of trooper. Some kind of sweet sweet thinking friend.

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