Under the gun

I don't want to write at this moment. I want to eat potato chips and surf the internet and listen to the podcasts I can't listen to because my fuckin' clock radio with the iPod dock is broken. Pisses me off.

So don't write. You can write tomorrow, farmboy.

Really? You mean it's okay? 

You're the boss, farmboy. You don't to ask my permission. Or anyone else's permission, for that matter.

That's hard for me to get used to, man. It's like, I've been thinking lately about how...I know the word, don't tell me...how powerless I feel in my life. Which, I hope, is complete bullshit. 

You're correct, farmboy. It is bullshit...

I don't know, man, I just feel so under the gun all the time. I feel like I'm running as fast as I can and I can't keep up. I'm fuckin' tired, man. I don't know what the fuck I'm rambling on about.

So give yourself the night off, farmboy. We can address all this "powerless" issues later.

Okay, it's official: I don't have to write tonight.

Good for you.

Now, how much you wanna bet that I'm gonna write something?