goon in my purse
April 15, 2003 06:24 PM

Today I did something that might have been bold and might have been slinky and cowardly. I prefer, despite the clearly slinky, cowardly way in which I did it, to think it was bold.

I quit something [not my job] that I've half hated for months. Just. Quit.

Like that!

I'm not going to mess around with things that aren't the right thing for me. It's stupid to feel selfish for that. It's particularly stupid to feel selfish when the wrong thing for me isn't really even making the world better for other people.

I say fie to that.

And I owe it all to the goon in my purse.

See, awhile ago my partner gave me a homie in a plastic bubble, one of those things you buy in grocery store machines designed to tempt quarters away from ten year olds. My homey is wearing a wifebeater and looks like he's been in a few too many Scorcese films.

I decided. My homey is in fact, a goon. A fist for hire. And he therefore lends a little extra oof to my shin kicks.

Knowing I needed to do this bold thing today, I dropped a goon in my purse and took off running.


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