“There’s more than enough time to be shitfaced and sexy.”

Words of wisdom from one Tony Patelunas, pre – Spring Break. Technically, my vacation started yesterday, but my heart and soul belongs to an indie bookstore three days of the week. I can’t complain much, as work feels more like play and banter than any sort of physical labor. I’ve never been asked to supersize anything or fold multi-color shirts. I have wrapped several display boxes of books, but only during the high holy days.

I feel frosty drinks and toasty books calling my name. A bartender in a certain Sayville establishment. A BFFL or three. I can’t neglect my work completely, though, as much I try to tune out the buzzing in my ears. Creativity waits for no one, not even Spring Break. Corny, but true. I feel myself drawn to narrative forms as of late, perhaps because I’ve overextended my foray into plays and monologues. Blame one Jules Feiffer.┬áMy mind thought like that once, but I feel as if my internal clock is pushing me towards that evil thesis. I guess I’m inspired by those around me who are graduating this semester and all of those books I shelve and sell at work. I can’t help it. I’ll try to fight it.

My moment. My chance at the watering hole.

Whenever I think watering hole, I picture this movie. I used to have a Lion King bedspread...when I was hip.

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