worse than a splinter. worse than a shattered country. worse than a curse from a terse nurse. badder than batter unlicked from the spoon. less optimal than optical distractions.
i took a job and look what it got me: hurt.
fourteen years of minceing by with an artistic income/outgonevercomback, i do some construction for a few months and then one lovely toozday fall in the dumpster to catch a nail thru the palm a metal bracket thru the bicep and a loss of sensation via the haha funny bone in my forearm.
say la vie: that's a crock of merde.
hello reality, you bite my ass with vengance. let's dance.
