;-p shut up about providence. ok? ok.

it's mostly my job. really. another disappointing one. surprised? i was happy to behind the stick again but the stick is hitting me back.

i've wanted to leave for a while but it's hard. it's decent money. i've recently heard that accusation again: golden handcuffs. it's difficult, sitting as i am here in paris in le bar at the george v nursing an old bottle of tattinger, considering leaving my job for something less lucrative. 

seriously though, what the fuck should it be called when you are just a bit above breaking even in a life where even the banal dreams of package vacations or apartments where the couch (actually I don't even have one) and the bed are in separate rooms, are impractical? i know what's being said but really, the phrase comes off the wrong way in this context. like will the newfound freedom of a job that provides no disposable income really make up for not even shopping for records in the dollar bin, for not repairing the broken music equipment littering my apartment (some of which was purchased broken because it was the best i could do at the time), for not even being able to consider putting off necesssary dental work because it will now be impossible to afford, even if i could put aside such luxuries as slices of pizza or the occasional beer. 

(and i think anyone who has ever said "golden handcuffs" to me has been a home owner!)

golden handcuffs? i'd sell them if i had them.


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