Chapter 109

I got up early as per my weekday routine, read the Clown World news, and did yoga. The dog was particularly annoying, poking me with his triangle face as I was getting into those strange positions he didn’t understand. He has a huge underbite and his lower teeth are often coming out of his mouth like a wild boar’s tusks, and at some point he caught me in a nostril as if I got a fish hook stuck in there. Ouch.

I had a full morning and did my thing like the consumate professional I am. At lunch I ate leftovers from last week, pulled pork and coleslaw, and made a quesadilla with the pieces of tortilla bread that Triangle Face didn’t eat. I watched some random YouTube videos about MMA or current events, one thing that got people talking is the Blacklivesmatter founder who just bought her fourth expensive house, with the donations she got. How marxist. It’s hard not to be cynical, with all those politicians and activists lying through their teeth, scamming, saying something and then doing the opposite, and generally being dishonest sacks of shit. I can only nod in admiration at her successful hustle, like Al Sharpton and his private jet. Race grifting and victimhood manufacturing is very lucrative, hell, the biggest race grifter of them all, Shawn King, is as white as the background of the MS Word software I’m writing this diary on  but still makes a living as an African-American activist.

I rode to work, listening to Ingrowing. I went through their back catalog during bus and train rides over the weekend, truly some of the best grindcore ever recorded. There are big rose bushes by the place I park my bicycle and I always stop to sniff the flowers, it never fails to improve my mood. Grindcore and fragrant flowers make me happy.

I had a bit of time in the office, that I used to read, write, and listen to music. I listened to an east coast hip-hop mix and then some old tracks by French rapper Oxmo Puccino, then a few news clips. A coworker was stapling papers, she had a huge pile in front of her, so I offered to help. That took me about an hour, but I could do it at my desk with my headphones on.

I had one more period, with Attitude Class, then I went home. A friend of mine asked me to translate a document from English to Chinese, that task occupied the first half of my evening. I put on music a bit randomly, British dubstep and drum n’ bass, artists by the names of Silkie, Mensah, Goldie, good beats to put in the background while I work.

So absorbed in the translation, I forgot to make dinner, there were leftovers in the fridge but not enough rice. So I took the dog out and walked to a neighborhood restaurant, where I asked for a container of rice. The nice lady didn’t even charge me. Then I went home and mixed the spicy, sour, salty and sweet leftovers into a nice flavorful bowl that I topped with two fried eggs and crushed cashews.

The girlfriend came back from overtime and checked my translation, some sentences needed small corrections or had to be rewritten entirely, Chinese grammar is not super complicated and follows the subject-verb-object structure for the most part, but as much as I can read, I must write like an 8-year-old. I made myself a bourbon-creme de cassis-lemon victory cocktail and it was too delicious not to sip slowly, so I stayed up a bit later than I should have.