I spent the first few weeks of that job reading 

Bukowski

. Besides for Post Office, I read all of his books. His stories fit in with this job, because I felt like I was having one over on 'the man', and this was exactly what Buk valued. Living on your own terms and not being someone's bitch. The only sad thing was that come September I'd no longer have this gig. The Man would get the last laugh after all.

During lunch, I'd always go for an expensive coffee after finishing my meal. I'd have about thirty minutes to revel in this coffee break. I'd either sit with the coffee at the cafe and people watch or I'd take it to a quiet courtyard someplace on campus and enjoy the breeze. This made me feel like Buk himself. Bukowski in modern times. It got me actually starting to feel that writing itch again. But more than that, it made me feel an itch for life. I would sip

coffee

more meaningfully. My steps would connect with the earth like a well placed high five. I finally felt more alive than I had during my entire twenties. Where had my mind been that whole time? Where had been my spirit?

After work I'd stop by an

Urban Dairy

and pick up a few

tallboys

of ice cold

beer

. I'd go home and sip that on the porch. There'd always be someone at the house who was down to drink, no matter the day of the week, so long as it was evening. 

Before this job I had quit drinking because I thought it was ruining my life. But now that I felt this new gusto... I thought, hey why not? I deserve a beer.