The Open Matt Project

D Day

Welp, apparently today is the big day. It's been about a year of me doing a Wile Y. Coyote over the cliff edge, and as of today I can see that I'm actually pinwheeling over thin air.

I'm broke. Not broke in the way that BART is, or in that patchwork-coat-with-a-bottle-that-has-XX-on-the-side broke, but rather the more contemporary about-to-have-men-in-coats-walk-off-with-my-furniture type broke.

My search for employment has been a real roller coaster of fun an excitement. Fun in the sense of getting a bottle broken over your head and realizing you're too drunk to care, and exciting by way of cardiac arrest. In short, it's been a bust, which incidentally goes along with the whole 'broke' motif.

Although I realize I've been more out of touch than an outstretching fakir on the clay floor outside some temple in Abu Dhabi, in my delirium I envision the impossible, like a spamless email box or a week of chain-banging hot young pop stars, and reach out to people to help me in my desperate hour.

I need a job. Any job. I'll spray bowling shoes with Lysol. I'll string cable through sewer pipes like a nerdy Rambo. I'll do anything that involves me actually pulling a check so I can futilely fling it at the slavering hulk that is my mosterous debt.