Echo says "whatever"

I was reading over a post a few entries back where I was talking about shame. Shame in the morning or sometimes the lack thereof. Defined by its absence I can create and experience new perspectives. Defined by the the stifling presence I retire to the fear-bricked hut of self-loathing and despair. That's kinda common knowledge though. What strikes me now is this guy who has to give up what he doesn't need to, what he shouldn't most often times, in order to have a night out. It's either dignity or money isn't it? There's a price to every interaction. Or maybe just the ones worth talking about the next day. What a sad, little guy. Little buddy.

Finished up Season 3 of Lost and watched the very last episode of The Wire. After four beers I've suddenly lost the desire to gush over television.

I thought I heard my dad crying in bed from the basement where I have my desk and turntable. I checked. It was just the wind. He'd never let me hear him cry. Not now, not as we're trying to make things normal. I'm so glad he talks about her to me because I can't bring myself to do it yet.

Only working till 6 tomorrow. I'll try and get to the Y. Picked up more overtime for next week. You'll probably be hearing much of the same next week as this week in this thing.

Now is probably a good time to go and re-tool the poem all in red.