i have less time to do things, yet im doing thing

im overwhelmingly consumed by the secret project. i havent ubered in months and my bank account shows.

the xbi says you can do this little job for us, you know, and i say i know.

i went to get this thing removed from my head. many people have told me its a transmitter.

it aint no transmitter. i dont think. but it’s gone now. the bleedings stopped.

the pretty girl made me oatmeal this morning before i left.

is there anything more a man could want?

the sun is warm, the air is less smokey.

i go to the mailbox at noon to see if the check has arrived.

this is no way to live.

but im obsessed with this project.

it must be great.

or else.

im not great.