the diary of antoine roquentin

I just finished Player Piano. It wasn’t as good as any of Vonnegut’s other work that I’ve read, but it was okay. It should have been a short story, not a novel. I should go into town maybe. I’ll have a meal and then perhaps go drop off Joe’s glasses (he left them in my car).

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> The Faint – The Conductor

My dad is being a real fuckhead. He wants me to clean up my room because he’s showing the house to some dickwads that want to buy it tomorrow. I’m only doing it because if I don’t then he will. I got up too late to go to the river (4:30 p.m.). Today sucks. Next week will suck too. My boss will be back and I’ll have to kiss his ass as usual. I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself if he wants me to write something. That’s not in my job description.

I don’t want tomorrow to happen. My wrist is killing me from using the mouse. I need to get a new job. My wrist feels like someone dissected it with a sharp spoon in my sleep. At least only my mouse hand hurts ever since I started using voice-recognition exclusively. I had to try and stop myself with all my might against buying this CD by The Hacker that I wanted on iTunes. I’m still really paced off at that Fischerspooner CD I bought that was scratched to shit. $20 in the fucking toilet. Well, I guess in a few months when I go down to Sacramento to look at apartments I can use Kelly’s CD resurfacer. I am in SUCH a bad mood. Fuck people looking at this house. What a shitty father my dad is. He needs to die. Slowly. Cancer wouldn’t be slow enough. I’m going with a degenerative nerve disease, like ALS or something. Okay. I need to clean my room and then leave this shithole. I hate being here.

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