A sort of life

Baby when you sing the blues I take all my clothes off for you

RICHMOND, Va. — Aye. Is it chivalrous for one to do good deed, and yet, be compensated handsomely? It’s deep morning Monday night, my Saturday equivalent, and I’m going to work tomorrow for some voluntary overtime. I regret agreeing to do it. I would really like to sleep in. I really would.

But being paid for overtime is not too shabby either. This must be considered. On one hand, I’m doing my company a favor. On the other I’d rather eat razors.

I can’t sleep. I’m just not feeling it. Why does one volunteer for overtime anyway? This, in retrospect, was a bad, bad move. It’s not that I don’ t like my job. I like it. I don’t enjoy it, but I can’t say I don’t like it.

But what possessed me to gift the company my precious time? I think I hate myself. Hate, maybe, because it’s oh so early in the morning. Yes. It’s true. I hate myself.

“Baby when you sing the blues I take all my clothes off for you” is from Volume One: Frank’s Wild Years (1983–2009). Written between 2003 and 2009, Volume One was this author’s attempt to find meaning from life as a young twenty-something. While this endeavor would ultimately fail, what remains is a comical tale of loneliness and debauchery.

Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm

Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm

A woman rests during the National Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, DC on April 2, 2007. The yearly festival celebrates spring in the Nation's Capital.

On the other hand, I'd rather eat razors.