It Only Hurts Me When I Cry

Nothing has changed here much except the view. The add-on to the building next door has officially blocked my warm Saturday morning sun and views of the Brooklyn skyline. And the building continues to rise. It seems almost symbolic. When do things start getting better and nicer instead of getting harder and worse? Am I just being a whiny little twit?

Probably. Maybe. I don't know. I mean me and P are relatively good, no major health issues. We both have jobs. We love Brooklyn 'cept when we hate it. We love our apartment. We ride our bikes to work. We enjoy our friendship and live like we're 20 when we're really almost 50. So what do I want? But its like that string theory and parallel universe type thing. In that same world but on another dimension good shit like my sunny views are being bricked over everyday. My hours are being cut at my suck-ass job. P hates his job. My mom broke her hip again and there is swirl of anxiety with all of that. The same cart of groceries is like $30 more all of a sudden. Our rent went up again. You can't even get away from the news even when you're trying not to watch it. You still get the images of millions of people out of work, homelessness on the rise, whole towns being bankrupt. I've given up on Tiger Woods ever winning a tournament and making us all feel like winners again. The conservative a-holes are the ones winning. The weather is going apeshit crazy everywhere. Breakfast was good though.