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.

Bleeding burgundy and gold

Bleeding burgundy and gold

Dan Brenner beams after surviving a punch to the nose by an angry Philadelphia fan at FedExField in Landover, Md. on December 12, 2004. Washington lost the game 17-14.

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