Pressed For Success

Artistic grads shuffle stools
Scratch their ass and wrack their brains
Try their damndest not to try at all
Not at all
Pot smoke wafts from the war memorial
Games simple soldiers never got to play
Could fill our city's hall

It's Saturday and the records are on sale.
I feel as though I don't have much to add to that, really.
I'm in the coffee shop I didn't plan to be in and everyone's dressed like they're bicycling.
It's February, so hopefully these people are just making a statement, which says:
"I want my pants to fit just tightly enough."
I had no idea what Norah Jones looked like.
Turns out she looks like someone I would undress.
That's not hard to do:

My own success has never been a preoccupation of mine.
That's not your fault.
Presumably, it's mine.
Y'know, I never get tired of walking into a place only to feel completely out of place there.
Fitting in is for HR representatives.
I thought about becoming an HR person, once.
However, that would have strictly been for the free 'recruiting' trips to Australia.
I don't know how much recruiting can be done while drunk and/or asphyxiated from a jellyfish sting.