I'm the Union Man, you can call me Rudy!!!
Need to use the bathroom, hon? I will get the usual banter out of the way. Saw The Wolverine today. I thought it was great, fuck Yahoo's weird bullshit prepremiere verbal flogging. Also, blah blah blah...
It is 6:38 in the a.m. as I type that. Mmmmm, coffee. I was outside smoking, and thinking back on, sayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, since around 2006ish. Damn, my blog has taken a tour through Bleaksville by way of quicksand. All gloppity gloop, and a bunch of sucking noises, as you sink, sink, sink...
The darkness, however, does give way to light. It doesn't matter that this light may blossom only to a cold and dreary grey throb of...
Not today, boys. I actually find mirth in my melancholy meanderings, thus they no longer hold sway. I'm riding the waves like Snake Plissken in that crappy sequel that one guy did. You know the one.
Dimples McGee I think was his handle.
It is now 6:47.
I am watching some Gerard Butler soccer dad movie where he seems to be humping his way through the moms and such. Wha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-t? Uma Thurman is waiting in his bedroom, and she just now found out she's actually in his Middle Eastern landlord's bedroom, possibly to be swept away in the wiskery broomage of the sex trade's brisk arm... movement of some sort. Couldn't think of a good word to sploot all over that sentence.
Anyhoo, not sure as to say how I feel. I don't whine about anymore, or mope so much. My only thang seems to be physical energy, but I'm working on that, too. Too bad cigarettes are so awesome. Why do I love thee, yet you reward us with things like wrinkles, lung cancer, no dreams of running a marathon, etc...?
I would love to not need to work for a living. I'm only 40, I'd love to take up boxing. No aspirations, no worry. I don't want anything other than just to have that spring to my step. I remember shadow boxing as a kid. Nothing fancy, but I got to the point where I could keep up a constant barrage for several minutes without letup or really even tiring. I have no idea why I did this from an early age through my early teenage years. I also always did hundreds of sit ups daily, and pull ups. I grew up amazingly in good shape. Skinny as fuck, but I never got beat down. I got fucked with alot, being smaller, but never had any repeat customers.
Why do I slam face first into the bricks every time I think of daring to break a sweat?
No idea, I need momentum. I need to tear my shirt from my bronzed breastices with Hulkamania in mein eyeholes...
I need a target. I need a muse. I need a hug in heart and mind.
I seek some peace, a smattering of solace on my toast. All melty...
I now turn the page to the next chapter of IT ALL.
And I no longer fear you. I have memorized the last zillion pages, and have committed them to, uhhh...
Memory? Yeah. So back up off my D, and give me back that mojo.
It is now 7:07 a.m. I fade off without even a cricket's chirp...
Nor a mouse fart.
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