I forgot one of my best tricks. Ask for coffee with a shot of Jameson on the side. That gets you two Irish coffees for the price of one. The ratio might be a bit off at first but you get used to it. Just like the taste of cheap beer. It’s not what you want but quantity outranks quality when you are killing time. I have nowhere else to go. Can’t even afford the cover at shows I want to support. The cheapest way to deal with it is get loaded during happy hour and play video games all night. 

With a phone at my disposal I held potential. People interested in me and what I might offer. Like all retail, more people look than buy. When I am taken off the shelf it’s thrilling. I come to life and remember what it’s like to relax and have fun. For a brief moment the novelty of not being alone trumps all other worry. In the best case, a whole weekend can go by before I remember my place. I’m not self-sustaining. Just an anthropomorphic party drug.

Trudging forward one day at a time, there’s really no other choice. I entertain wild ideas like suicide or starting a band. After enough days languishing in bed waiting for something to change I get a surge of optimism. I take a few trepidatious steps and emerge once again into the burning bright sunlight. It might just be one day. It might be the start of a new chapter. I must be crazy, doing the same thing over and over while hoping desperately for a new result.