Right now, my life is a plane and the plane is on fire. I am, apparently, unemployable, and the money is slinking away like kids from a swimming pool after little Gerald shit in it. My life savings will soon be joining Luther Vandross, and my enthusiasm for this job search is headed in the same direction. That's okay. Right now, the whiskey is joining its friends gin and vodka in my bloodstream, music that pleases me is coming out of the compute-box, and I am, for the moment, lord of all I survey. When Warren Zevon was asked, shortly before his death, for any insights he had gleaned from his terminal cancer, he replied, "Enjoy every sandwich." That's maybe the best advice anyone's ever been given.
P.S. Could it be any fucking hotter? This is the most miserable summer of my five years in Austin. It's just compounding all the other bullshit. My car is the next wood-fired oven of (name of downtown eatery with wood-fired oven here). My keys actually bake while I drive. I'm serious. I burned my hand twice today by touching my keys after I removed them from the automobile. This is not the way things should go.