333sixfiveeightseven.

print, print, print says the printer to my immediate left.
I am so sick and tired of this god damn jazz project I've been doing. I have actually achieved 3 hours on this stool thus far tonight.
what an amazing achievement sammy.
But this dumb ass assignment is finally done. thank ya baby Jesus Babylonian.
The bones in my back feel like they are condensing into my lower back. My tailbone whimpers as it stays positioned in the same stance for 2+ hours. my ribs and stomach flub have all been folded many times over. The gravity of today weighs my shoulders to and fro. slowly my eye lids fall. Maybe not even fall, but crash like the sea into a rocky shore. They crash and burn as my frayed eyelashes meet for the first time in years.
no but seriously, my eye lashes are being complete meanies lately. I honestly think I lost ten soldiers, lashes, in the past day.
WHAT TO BECOME OF THAT!?
perhaps I am turning into on of those hairless dogs. I will have to always wear clothes, to avoid infection of the skin. Not a fun life. No, swimming in a burka would be rather scratchy and nasty heavy in the water, what having about thirteen pounds of drenched clothing all around. billowing in the green-brown-purple water of ....lets say Iraq. not a fun scene. no, not at all. the ocean there must be pretty god damn depressing.
on a lighter note.
miles Davis is one heck of a engineer when it comes to jazz!!, good on ya, fellow.
my next task is to find a stunning picture of him and print that as well. For the folk in vocal jizz of the morrow.
god
Christ
i actually don't know why I put up with such crazy things.
i men really? jazz of the vocal variety is fun and all, but homework is out of the question!
I do not even have a credit, signed up for this course. poop.
printing, printing yip a do day, oh my god what a wonderful daaaay says the printer to my immediate left.