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I want to be a rockstar and have an excuse to wear really big hats and hairpieces and feathers and sequin and stuff you are not allowed to wear normally. At around 2 in the afternoon I'd walk down the street to get my morning coffee . I'd wipe the crust from my puffy eyes and note my streaked makeup in a window's reflection. I'd write lyrics on a napkin and slouch on a bench while feeding the birds with the ashes from my cigarette and I'd laugh to myself at all the jerks forced to in cubicles to type and rot away in flourescent lighting.
That would be nice, wouldn't it?
8:12 PM
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