I woke this afternoon for a long shift at the subrocket. Tuesdays have been really busy lately for some unexplained reason. I think it has something to do with the college nearby - some sort of end-of-the-semester fraternity boy blowout. Regardless, I sit here in the office as Mark and John work the bar. I've tried to quit smoking this week but there's been one burning at my fingers all night. It's comforting in this wretched environment. God, there is no romance working in a dingy, dark bar - even if the atmosphere is more 'rock n roll' than a 9-5 office job. The environment suits me, this bar does not.

A few emails to answer as I finish this beer and light another cigarette. Do you wonder what your friends are doing at the very moment? Jen and Steve are no doubt painting and finishing a joint of Steve's from last night. It's quiet there I bet. Steve's probably grumbling about not being able to find his tube of burnt sienna and Jen knows where it is though she gets a kick out of watching him look for it. He finally finds it and she claps enthusiastically so as to let him know that she knew where it was all along. Steve chuckles and goes back to his painting, wiping some on her cheek first.

I bet they don't wonder what I'm doing late on a Tuesday night.

Dean