mental defective

so I ironed my pants this morning to take out the wrinkles and while i did i considered my lateness relative to an office building where I go more often than i'd like to catch subtle radiation from a funny glowing box which i'm staring into now. hello. you're reading me. i'd love some caffeine right now but to acquire said beauty i'd need to descend back to the scummy streets from whence i arrived here and speak to an apron-adorned thrill-seeker with too much responsibility on their hands and not enough time to juggle successfully. but practice makes perfect, or so they say. is there more to life than ironing towards a cup of joe? absolutely. when you miss the train a new one arrives not too much later, unless its last call for alcohol. magnetism. mmmmmmmmmm when two bodies feed off each other gently and viciously at once. ice cream on a park bench featuring the soothing sounds of a traditional deutsche band. beer at $6 a pitcher with comrades. a blank highway covered in the sound of rock n roll, cows disturbed by the passing parade of youth on wheels. fuck, i love life