penis on display!

Don’t you fucking dare use that as an excuse.

Drinking used to be the cause of your writing. It sure as hell ain’t going to be the reason you’re not writing.

That’s for sure.

Always.

I read an excerpt from “The Sun Also Rises” today. It made me happy and sad all at once. It reminded me of the days I used to believe in something. No matter how trivial or silly that feeling was to other people. It mattered to me.

And right now, I don’t have that something to believe in. Despite Bret Michaels’ imprint on my brain.

A girl walked by in purple Umbros tonight. I had forgotten how much I love seeing a woman in purple Umbros. Which, of course, begs the question : why don’t girls wear purple Umbros anymore? Or does it really have something to do with being old?

Fuck.

I wonder why shooting off fireworks gets rednecks off so much?

I’ve never heard so many grown men go “Woooooooooooooooo” since the state fair and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Anyways….

There used to be a time when I knew exactly what I was trying to accomplish. Even though I had no idea how to get there. Now? I have no idea what I want to accomplish, but I know exactly how to get there. Been there for a little over two years now.

In that time I made some friends, lost some friends, got some friends back and wondered about friends. I guess the same can be said of them and me? But I’m not a mind reader, so, who fucking knows…

I wanted to drive to New Orleans this weekend. Make up for the last time I was there. Even though I know that nothing will ever make up for the last time I was there. And I can’t fathom that being the way I think about that town.

Yes, it seems to hate me. But I love it. So I keep coming back. Like a beat wife or dog. Is it telling that those two things popped into my head?

I hate rap music now. Not old rap, just new rap. I guess that’s a sign of getting old.

But I like some new rock. Some new pop. Hell, pop hasn’t change at all. It’s just autotuned now. Which sucks.

How can it be that I can’t find anything to write about anymore? I need to get some visceral experience. I’ve been cooped up in a cubicle too God damn long. So long that it seems to not be so awful. Even though I know it is.

Who invented the cubicle? I’m sure I could Google it. But damn, why? I like the not knowing. The wondering of the questions. Instead of the instantly finding out the answer. The quest is no longer seen as a great thing. Ease is better than stress.

Fuck you. I like my quests. It keeps me breathing. And it should keep you breathing too.

Unhook that Ipod. Turn off that smartphone. It’s better out there without it.

Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. Cliched reasoning for giving up on the “Modern World.” Yeah, it’s all been said  before, and some 14 year old today will say it too in about 20 years.

Still doesn’t mean it’s not the right way to look at things.

I caught a roach in the house tonight. Inside of a KISS pint glass. I didn’t want to kill him or her. Maybe he/she will go out and tell the other roach’s that that guy is pretty damn cool. Let’s not try to eat his spices and such. Of course, it could be like a drug dealer that doesn’t make an example of the thief. Instead of looking good, you look bad. And tomorrow, I’ll wake up to roaches everywhere. Scurrying about like it’s play time at Chuck E. Cheese.

If I had a gun, I’d shoot nothing. I don’t see the point.

If I had a pen in my hand, I wouldn’t write. I have carpel tunnels.

If I had a beer, I would drink it. Ditto whiskey. I need to get drunk more often. It just feels right.

Fuck a coin that says 1 day. Or 30 days. Or even 1 year.

We are all going to die the same way – by not breathing anymore. And we all end up back in the food chain. Even if you think a locked up tight coffin will prevent it.

Guess what? It doesn’t.

Just ask the Egyptians.

One day, some douchebag will dig you up in the name of science.

And then you’ll be in an museum. For all the world to see.

It’ll be funnier if you drove a big-ass pickup truck to cover up your little penis. Because now everyone will see it.

Or something.