The Manor

The last week has been a blur for the most part.

I have a new job, (again) working at another gas station... Did I tell you this already? I work grave yard, which means time folds in on itself and everything looses meaning. The last three days especially, with moving, working, and more working, things have been a bit of a frazzle. threehours sleep after being awake for for a full day is enough to keep your eyes open, but not enough to maintain funtunal brain process. I fell asleep on the bus on my way home, and missed my stop... Though I think I should be okay now, I got fifteen hours sleep last night so I am well enough rested for the next grave robbing.

I am living at Amy's now, in her beautiful house. Her kindness is truly boundless, and I am forever indebted to her for allowing me to stay here for this month. Though it is a little creepy. It is huge, hard wood floors, HDtv, xbox360, big windows, internet, and I am the only one here. They left for the cottage for the weeks end. So I wonder around the ultra quiet house trying not to touch the walls. The eyes on the painting.... they.... never mind.

Up at four, ready for bed by eight, only fourteen hours before I get to sleep again has me feeling less than optimistic about tonight's shift. I think I have made it through all the reading material... brb gotta go to work.

okay back. It is twelve hours later, or 8:36 in the morning. I should be tired, I was tired all of my shift. Until I had a red bull... I normally avid such things, but lately I have been trying my hand at riding the bomb. Mind you, my idea of gluttony is having sushi and subway in the same day. Though of late I have been getting by on a meal (north American standard issue) and helping of cereal (corn flakes) for the days food, a semi kind of fasting where I let myself be hungry for hours of the day in the hopes my ribs will start to show a little more. and I started smoking cigars, one or two a day for the better part of the last two weeks. I can hear the cat puking. I stopped doing yoga, and my body hates me.

my boss at the new gas station is a good guy. The more I talk with him the more I respect him, not for the gas station part of him, but for the directly friendly business man he is. Working a gas station is made less painful for this, and the fact we get almost no costumers over the grave yard shift, which allows me to read all four news papers, and what ever else there is. I also hook my mp3 player up to the speakers. This location is also on the edge of suburbia, which means I sell one onehundreth as many loto tickets as I did when I was in the middle of the welfare district. Fewer cigarettes too.

Every one keeps telling me they love my hair, I wish I knew how to do this back in highschool. I'd have had all the ladies...

I am going to go get some corn flakes.

Now bed.

Uehen should sleep.