08-10-02 - 9:49 p.m.
my enthusiasm for work has reached a new low. as a gemini of epic proportions, i am easily bored. and ever since my childhood dreams of social work were dashed by the vicious spittle of a black kid in the city of brotherly love, i'm quickly disillusioned. the mundane mechanics of running a hotel have become about as exciting as the digtally remastered, director's cut of the stand. and if one more departing guest walks up to my desk and says,
the-guy-upstairs-moved-furniture-all-night-and-the-sofa-bed-hurt-aunt-frieda's-back-and-i-needed-a-cork screw-and-instead-of-calling-you-in-a-timely-manner-i-decided-to-complain-now-so-you're-compelled-to-discount-my-stay-so-i'll-be-sure-to-return-and-complain-again...
so, between arrivals and departures and credit card disputes and mountains of dirty linen, i fantasize about a radical career move. fuck retirement plans. fuck benefits. i want challenge. fullfillment. nourishment for the soul! tonight, faced with another sold out week of beer guzzling atv freaks who care more for their quads than their lives, i'm torn between sharing a stale baquette with mice in a chilly parisian garret and finishing my novel, or heading for the mall to juice lemons at hot dog on a stick, wearing hot pants and go go boots...
okay, so i'm an aging flower child and hot pants are out. guess i'll sleep on it.