Say, Mister Self, Can You Spare A Dime....

Maybe I shouldn’t think so negatively. I can’t seem to live on a budget. I’ll buy beer even though I have no money. I’ll buy real maple syrup. The occasional cigar. In a foreign country I’ll buy western products. If I am living on credit, I’ll talk myself into buying a bicycle and more computer memory, even though you could argue my current arrangement is just fine.

Most Likely


I want to make money hand over fist.
I want to make a killing.
I want to rake in the cash
be in the black
go like gangbusters
have a booming business
freelance
be my own boss
call the shots
live the American dream
go rags to riches
make my mark
be a self-made man
be nobody’s fool
set my own and my banker’s hours
take all comers
make a name for myself
receive the keys to a city
cut through the red tape
cut through the bullshit
be my own man
go public.

I want to show ‘em
come into my own
find my fortune.

I’ll laugh all the way to the bank.
Yes, sir, now they work for me.

I want to skip the light fantastic
Whatever the hell that means.

“He’ll never amount to anything,” they said.

There’s one born every minute.



I can’t pray that way though. I recently prayed that I would just be able to pay my bills and have airfare for three or four (if I go in the spring to Poland) tickets. I don’t remember what else I prayed (while trying to fall asleep at an unusual bedtime), but maybe it involved my luxuries, too. Amen.

On the train back from the VA Hospital again. Got my measles, mumps, roubella immunization proof. Turns out I’m no public health threat, just as I thought. Cholesterol screening remains to be seen—whether my light weight regiment is doing any good.

Whenever I finish at the VA I go across and treat myself to breakfast, which they serve 24 hrs. This time I had a Breakfast Jack, which has a thin slice of ham, instead of my usual biscuit/cheese/breakfast meat choice. I borrowed eight dollars from my future for the meal.