Summer teeth

I’ve always thought that Corus bank is the low-class of the banks. All the tellers seem to be college dropouts. No one with any real money would ever use it as their sole bank. I used to think that this was one of the reasons I used it as my bank. No longer. I feel like a loser every time I go in there. I have to ask for my balance because I no longer have an ATM card. Then I get my balance. I may have a college degree, but the guy behind the counter has more than $7.40 in his account.

After leaving my bank, I headed over to The Machine. In July, this place was great. As time passed, the place has become a sour reminder of how I’m fucking up. There really isn’t anything I can do, besides get a full-time job, to get this fucker in print. So if anyone knows of anyone who can and will hire me, let me know. If not, well, then the magazine has been printed, you just don’t have one because they flew off shelves (or in this case, floors).

So with no real purpose and not enough money to do much of anything, I’ve decided to head to Pilsen for some photos that need to be taken. After that jaunt, I will travel to Chinatown. Chinatown usually makes me somewhat happy. I have no bad memories associated with the place and the noodle place I always go to is cheap.

But before I leave, I must find some company. It’s this weird desire to spread the wealth of my boredom. I will offer nothing insightful or witty, but I will pay for your meal, so you better come. So for the past hour or so, I’ve been looking for comrades online with no luck. This has led me to myspace. Rather than sit here and feel sorry for myself, I try to add hundreds of “friends” for Fetor. Why? I have no idea why. It gets my mind off of things, at least it used to. I just spent three and half minutes on some 16-year olds page because she was streaming “Me and Mia” by Ted Leo. And that, is fucked up.

I first read “Seize the Day” during the summer of 2001. I didn’t like the book. It didn’t click with me or something. I was forced to re-read it in my junior or senior year at DePaul. It’s now one of my favorite books. I’m starting to understand why Tommy Wilhelm loses his mind. I might not have an ex-wife, kids, money or a father, but I do think I can relate. God damn. Things could be a lot worse. I could have a Corgan sized ego.