Erstwhile Muse

Aug 10, 2004

Son of a whore-hopper...

Like a bad goddam penny I can't get rid of.

So I've been haunting this particular table at the Clintonville Cup O' Joe since about 11:30, taking ample advantage of their wireless internet access. Which, luckily for me, happens to be provided by Time Warner, therefore I was able to set up Thunderbird and send mail with it using the old Road Runner account. All in all a good thing, ewen if the damn connection is a bit flaky. Flaky, but useable, which is better than what I have at home at the moment.

Providence has decided that perhaps I need to be prodded in the direction of the door though apparently, as the table next to me has just been inhabited by Damon Zex and his nameless girlfriend. For those of you not familiar with Columbus cable access television and dive bars, Damon Zex is this strange little man that I cannot seem to escape far the life of me—he's fucking everywhere, I swear. At the bars, at the gym, at the goddam grocery store ferchrissakes—now at the fucking coffee house. I don't know what the hell it is, but I just can't seem to get away from this tool.

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