It feels odd to be broke. To deliver rolls of loose change to the bank so you can buy cigarettes and dog food. What feels odder is that I’m working at a well-paying hourly rate. Timing, timing is everything in the unsavory game of financial independence. I work enough to cover the costs I need to develop as an artist. The bane of this erratic existence — that of the well-paid starving artist — is an ineptitude for money matters and a highly unpredictable income schedule.
The worst reason to quit smoking is because you can no longer afford to smoke.
So, our president spoke to the U.N., today. Here, in a surprisingly keen first review of the president’s speech, is William Saletan over at Slate. He even stumped the rabid conservatives and their nemeses, the blathering lefties, in the associated bulletin board. I still don’t know if I can attribute as much cunning to Bush as Saletan and others do. This protracted post-modern dance with the international community, using every tool of public intimidation, seems more accidental than anything carefully constructed. But what do I know?
WORDS
You’re like the guy in the middle of the dodge-ball circle, sweating and elusive. I loved that contest when I was a kid, but these days I’d rather play catch with someone.