It's a dreary Saturday morning here in Nevada. Rain is washing away our fluffy white snow and after reading various posts about the horrors of the modern workplace cubicle, I found this sweet little NSFW clip at Drifty's which fits my mood to a T. Why T? I don't know. T has been the gold standard for fine fits since I was a kid. Glengarry Glen Ross has it all. Great writing. Great acting. And an office from the days when a desk was a DESK, real estate was HOT and men were, well... losers. Plus I love the line, "How should I know? I'm not a leash."
A similar scene has been playing in my head lately. In it, I am all the characters. It's chilling but I did get up early and write a new poem this morning and finished another I started a couple of days ago. I think it has something to do with my new desk which screams "crunch time", "do or die". "Coffee is for closers only".
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