I Found a Crumpled Dollar Bill on the Sidewalk and Didn’t Pick it Up
June Gloom is the companion these days. The gray area that expands into the sky of acceptance — that none of us can evacuate until about noon.
Works for me.
We all need the nudge of a menaced higher power — begging for attention in order to divert our minds from the sunny disposition that never lasts.
On this day — I’m walking with the renewed purpose that cushions each step with affirmation and longing.
I’m a mess.
I feel rejuvenated and optimistic but then I also want the ground underneath me to devour my fucked up disposition.
How do you calculate the difference between the ones who made it and the one who was almost there?
Never mind. It’s hot.
The beams from the sun that guide the loud as hell jetliner disturbing the sky provide unexpected relief as the beads of sweat remind me that I’m still alive.
Hmmm….what to do with that thought.
Today is an opportunity to get off the pity potty and actually be the grown up I begged my mother that I wanted to be so long ago.
Someone who can do whatever without asking permission. The more enveloped version of who you were that afternoon when being fourteen and confused was not enough.
This right here isn’t the business! Life lied to me.
Okay. I lied to me. I believed that I could be special. I wanted an easy ride at first then I changed my mind and settled for hard work and sacrifice but the payout was substantially less than desired.
So, now I’m walking with earnest to the gym like a bat outta hell. Promising to submit my overcooked script to production companies who charge the ones without a name a fee for effort while the distinguished population get to produce shitty content for free and add a bonus fuck for good behavior.
Damn this town. Ouch!
My sneakers did it again. I need new one but I bet I won’t get them until I succeed in twisting my ankle.
Why do small dogs bark the loudest? Is it to demonstrate the fact that being that size sucks ass and in order to garner respect — the need to be mean and chaotic becomes the norm?
The barking jars me but I recognize the beat and keep moving. God! I wish I had a gun you stunted asswipe.
No, I don’t. I’m just royally pissed.
I’m on my period and the cramps are killer. There is dog poop everywhere but at least it’s sifting through the grass. I didn’t get the job at TMZ even though I told the recruiter that thing Mel Gibson did years ago. I want to be a successful writer but I’m too good at what I do. I’m broke and waiting for unemployment and there’s a dollar bill in my way.
There it is. Crumpled and forbidden.
Add it to what I have now and the stakes are even higher — but for whom?
I look at the blazing bill to make sure it’s a dollar.
It is. Just a dollar.
Who am I if I pick it up and keep it moving?
I would be a hustler on the prowl who stumbled upon the fortune of bumping into money laying on the sidewalk under the intensity of the sun that don’t care.
I don’t care either.
I’ve picked up money from the streets before when my bank account wasn’t nearly as starved as it is now.
The thing is that I know my present will shape the future. And succumbing to the wiles of a dollar bill seducing my mindset won’t authorize the riches that have been secured for my benefit.
I will be quilted in bills that won’t need a dirt road to find me.
I stepped over the bill of choice and taxed America for a refund.
My dreams deserve it.