The Reverse Sleepy Gonzalez...

Wow, another lost post? WTF was I on anyway?!?



Cryptic enough, isn't it all? Reverse, reverse!!! Now Charlie Brown...

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or deadens you a little more to the pain. Experience is an anesthetic, and knowledge a crux. To be blissfully numb to it all like the rest of you. I will soon blossom, or my wings will be torn from me. As usual...

I'm starting to believe I was meant to fail, to come crashing down, again and again. I have felt like I do since I was able to feel. Or remember...

I want to evolve, or better yet, DEVOLVE. The Soft Parade has now begun. Listen to the engines hum. People out to have some fun. Cobra on my left...

Leopard on my right, yeah. Out of sight, the lights are getting brighter.

Tropic corridor, tropic pleasure, what god has this brought to this mild equator.?

We need something to get us through, yeah come on!!!

Calling on the dogs.

Unfortunately, there are still a few animals, left out in the yard, and it's getting harder...

to decide. Strangers...

Collage Fromage Homage...

Wow, something I guess I didn't post from way back in the wayyyyy back. Maybe I did. Who da fuck knows?
Another medley of pictures lurking in the void. Uncle Jimbo surfaces again to take control of the nether regions using only his nether regions. Ronbone and Bobo can only watch in eager titillation.
"And anticipation..."
Of what is to come when the transformation and the coronation are complete!!! The mark of JIMBO will be upon us all by then.
"Let the Baptism of Jism begin!!!"
Yet there is another who could stop this. Would he not come forth and claim his more rightful and benevolent place among the heavens? He is of the blood of Bobo, turtlekin, and yet to be revealed in this storyline.
But soon the gears will begin to turn, setting off the mechanism for which will bring in a new era, one of wonderful tragedy and gleeful melancholy. The sound of the bones of the unworthy crunching underfoot will be sweet music to behold. A darkness will fall as to dampen even the most abundantly fueled flame.
"The Battle of Brothers has begun!!!"

Feed, You Must...

 Hi, everyone and no one...
Checking in. Let's see: the world is a giant shit sandwich and I continue to nom nom on them on a daily basis. Uhhhhh, tired alot lately. Irritable. Moody. Whiny bitch.
Anyhoo, on episode 16 or 17 of Scrubs. Probably won't get any more done since today I'm just not feeling it. Dying to see the new episode of Walking Dead...

Mmmmmmm, flesh. I'm sick of people always saying/thinking that zombies crave brains in particular. It's all about the flesh and bone...
Admittedly, I could live with a zombie apocalypse. As long as I could get to my loved ones first, and spirit them away to somewhere safer. My luck I'd get bit right out of the gate. Or not...
As far as shooting them, no problemo. I could give a flying fuck if I knew them before. Family would suck, though. Not sure how I'd fare. Personally, I'd want to come back and wander the planet if I screw the pooch and get turned. I mean... why not?!?
I've told my kid that if I died, unless I'm going to be a danger to her, then just let me somewhat live.
It'd be cool to see how far I got. Would I just stick to the old haunts, or would I/could I end up in a totally different part of the world?
Questions and queries and yodas and shit...
You know, I used to write poetry. That's like saying, "Did you know I used to be gay?"
Ha!
Most of it was drivel. I tend to speaketh in ten dollar words, or just end up berating GAWD for my own failings. These days, I can't even finish a sentence before I go back and erase it from my memory banks forever. I wonder how much of his own poetry Jim Morrison recorded vocally. The rest of the gang should do another album of that schnizz.
The bomb diggity, it was...

You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here...

 And so am I, so am I.
Listening to Frank Zappa interviews from over the years, mainly extremely long ones where he really lets loose. Too bad most of the interviewers had no clue who they were even dealing with. Stupid questions for a man above most of what got flung his direction. ..
Were I given the chance to interview him, I'd need some time to not only compose myself, but not foolishly squander our time together. I wonder how he'd get along with today's Johnny Rotten, or for the old one for that matter.
Either way, he'd have been an awesome President methinketh...

Gotta respect the guy, though I personally love the shit out of him myself. Rare bird, a true genius.
We haven't had anyone of his caliber for a few decades. Nowadays, people worship a goofy twat like Lady Gaga with her meat dress, or whatever the fuck it twere...
Weehaw, Obama versus Romney in a battle of epic flippity flop floop. Who cares, though I know who I'm voting for personally...
Anyhoo, gettin' the schwoop schwoop on right now.
Ok, just came back from watching a little of the debate. I wish Frank was there to mop the floor with whoever, even easily both at the same time. So now back to your regular programming of cheese and whine.
The well is now officially dry.

Scrub-A-Dub-Dub-Step...

 Deep in thought? Fashionably pensive?
Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Deciding between sliders and somewhere that has tacos on their all you can eat buffet?
Perhaps, but not really. More likely, I'm not thinking at all. Or trying not to...

I will preface my next insightful comments by saying this picture of Frank was taken without his permission. Can't a dirty freak take a shit in peace? So anyhoo...
What I'm trying to say is that no matter how hard I might try to look like the first picture of Mr. Thinker, I end up looking like crap taking crap.
Of course, I'm not saying Frank is crap. You know what I'm saying...
I want an island, or somewhere deep in Montana, where I can raise me a crop o' dental floss.
I will only communicate with the masses via Skype, or whatever tickles my fantasy.
Until I am no longer at odds with the rest of the world...
Then would I return to claim my throne.
The Prince of Lies...
King of Nothing...
Fool.

I often wonder if I am just that. Then delusions of grandeur kick in. That's what they feel like after awhile, but are they?
I find it hard to believe it is ME all the time.

I saw Total Recall this weekend. It was surprisingly good, just minus the awesome cheese of Arnold Schwartzenblahblah. Also surprising is that I'd recommend it, very actiony...
Also saw The Possession, which sucked balls. If you suck balls metaphorically, then this is for you.

Other than that, just hanging in there. Fighting the demons in my head; sometimes winning, sometimes not so much. All you can do is keep punching. Right now, for some reason, everything I type just isn't working for me. You ever get that feeling? Just...
Nothing. Nothing to share, nothing of worth anyway.
Writer's block!!!
Wish it was contagious, and I had a sweet DeLorean that time traveled, I'd go back in time and give Stephen King a deadly dose of it.
Sorry, I'm rereading It. I find myself skimming the silly drivel he lays on pretty thick. I bet he was a complete doof. Nobody probably liked him, and he probably talked to himself, wishing bad things on them. Maybe Carrie is a wishful autobiography, and he'd love to be the Prom Queen, or was it homecoming? I don't remember...
I'm just saying he's not even 1% of all the praise heaped on him. He just wrote alot of dirty words, threw in some wishful sex, and BOOM...
Young teens hanging on his every word. Genius, I'll admit, but in the end kind of dumbs down a few generations in the process. Clive Barker blows him away. I love Cabal.
Anyway, enough rambling. I'm watching Scrubs with my kid and we are on episode 14 of season 1, a very long way to go. I will keep up the tally as I post later. We might even eventually get all the way through them.
It's an ok show, I'm not enthralled by it, but it's decently watchable so far...

RAWR...

Howdy folks...
Saw Resident Evil movie, can't remember the complete title, just that it's the fifth piece of shit so far.
The last one actually had some redeeming qualities, but this one is more than a slap in the face. It has disemboweled RE, bled it dry, buried it, dug it back up and pissed on it, then buried it upside down...
The only way you could see it was in 3D, which is total bullshit, but a good way to get serious bucks before word gets out how shitty it actually is/was.
Please reboot with a new director/writer/no Mila Jahovah's Whatever-the-fuck-it-is. Give it to someone who truly loves this enough to be able to balance being true to the material without cheesing it out. When I saw their Leon, I was immediately repulsed. Flabbergasted. Livid. Fucking pissed.
I still play RE4 on a regular basis, and would play RE2 if I could find the disc. Leon is the king.
PLEASE REBOOT NOW.
I would be completely happy with an animated film in 3D. Do it up like RE4's creepy look.
Give it to Romero, but make him stick to the source material and not try to put some "message" in there.
I'd love to see it all done properly. But then again, I'd love someone to redo Battlefield Earth the way it should be: as a trilogy, with oodles of moolah to pour into it. Love that book. Too bad that Scientology is a bunch of hokey crap.
Not much is going on. Work, sleep. Wishing the zombie apocalypse would hurry up and pop. One more month until Walking Dead. Andale.
Anyway, nothing clever to say today. Going to watch Scrubs and make a sandwich.
That is all.

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth...

 A new computer...
A gift?
I wish, but no. Unfortunately, I had to get this for a short time from some crap rental place. It'll go back when I can afford a sweeet new desktop. Might be awhile, but it will be mein...
Oh yes, it will be mein.

Instead, the gift will be this post to you. The best part is no one can return it, you can only move on after seeing it. So I guess it could be a gift or a curse.
Question: Is it better to laugh whilst dying, or to live whilst crying?
I went to a meeting today and heard the first part and added the last. I haven't been drinking, but I still go from time to time for a little meditation time. It's an hour away from the everyday bullshit that's all for me.
Anyhoo...
Hey, where'd that horse go to...?
By the way, MU played hard against Georgia today in their SEC opener in foofoo ball. They played three great quarters, then gave up in the fourth. I'm crushed.

May the GAWDS Smile Upon Thee...

So I'm driving to pick my daughter up from school today and...
I'm waiting to make a left turn behind some moron who is too busy texting to see the green arrow. The guy opposite us wants to make a right but said moron finally decides to go. The right turn guy wants to butt in front of me, but I glare at him as I make my turn first. I've also got the dance mix to Out of Touch by Hall and Oates blaring, which they start doing a crazy dance to behind me, swerving all over the road as they continue to frug away...
I give them the finger. Now I make a right turn with them behind me, but when I do I make sure they can't immediately pass me and give me the finger. Now we are in a two lane thangie which merges into one down the road further down the road. I decide to continue not letting them pass me and deny their retaliatory naughty finger...
I'm doing 45 now in a 35 leading up to the merge. They are closing fast, but they aren't going to pull it off before the merge. And that's when I see the po po...
I'm figuring the jig is up, and I'm busted. But at the last second, the two inbreds behind me whip around me well after it's turned into a one lane dealie. They obviously did not see the fuzz, and instead of tagging me, he goes around me and immediately pulls them over...
I wave to them as I pass by, with windows open so's they can hear my guffaws of glee.
Thank you, kharma.

HA!!!

I was going through my old unposted drafts and found this.
WTF am I looking at?!?
Probably my overblown ego rising into the stratosphere...

WHAT A MAROON.

Sombrero and all...

bLOOER tHAN A sMURF'S tAINT...

 I guess I screwed the pooch, as far as posting bunches for August. I was also off last week for a week long recovery after my 40th birthday. Yay for me, right?
Sometimes I think I'm insane, sometimes methinks you are all guilty as charged instead. Sometimes I'm totally ready to shirk the comforting arm melancholia drapes round my neck, much like ye olde ever tightening noose, yet other times I'm readily spotted wallowing in that very same mire...
Doing the backstroke, and stroking my own seemingly chaotic selfdom...

I feel aimless, foolishly waiting on another random calamity, a... a...
Ehhhh, who do I think am fooling, anyway?
I wish I could pour everything inside me onto a canvas, so as to display myself as a portrait for you to peruse.
Artistically visceral...
To hone in on the principle...
Pistols at dawn...
'til the night sky is gone.

I give up. Go see Hit and Run, if you haven't. Dax and Kristen Bell are like some fairy tale love story that definitely translates into perfect onscreen chemistry. Too bad real life isn't like that. Instead it is full of dark fantasy that eats away at your soul, bit by decomposing bit...
Lolz.
How can you make yourself once again love the magic trick, even after you've seen how it is truly done and no longer amazing?
Is there CPR for the soul, or do I need those little heart paddle thingies George Clooney used to use?
This world is a sea of unfairness. The question is...
Am I a shark, or a guppy?
I look at people, and I wonder if they live in constant internal turmoil as I do.
I'm not like this all the time, by the way. It just seems like I only post/vent here when I am.
I need to start posting vlogs on here, so I can ramble easier.
Gotta lose about... ten more... pounds first. Trying to get svelte up in this bitch.
RECANIZE.

Who Dat?

 So, after all, there was not one kind of Strife alone, but all over the earth there are two. As for the one, a man would praise her when he came to understand her; but the other is blameworthy: and they are wholly different in nature.

For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel: her no man loves; but perforce, through the will of the deathless gods, men pay harsh Strife her honour due.

Cold. Unforgiving. A perfect name for the dwarf planet that knocked Pluto from its full planetary status. Sometimes nearer, sometimes three times farther away than Pluto. Elliptical. Barren and fruitless in the end.
But still...
A tiny sparkle in our telescopes. A light at the end of the tunnel, or a wasteful expedition towards an unobtainable goal?
A one way ticket to the pipe dream of your choice more likely...
But then again, possibly...
An otherworldly peak to unfurl flags to, to stake claim and lay law upon...
And conquer, for no reason other than just that: to conquer.
To trample and maim, to darken the doorstep of...
To further corrupt the orbit of its chaotic nature...
And hasten its fatal collision with Pluto.
Seemingly on a whim, no less. But, alas, with purpose all the same.
Fervor gives way to gnashed teeth, perspiration lubricates the rusty gears to motion...
But for what?
Vaporization and existence revoked.
Better than never having been, but less than having fully blossomed into final blissful splendor.
Resentful, but beholden to the toehold that was almost achieved...
Yet is nothing but a scratch upon the illuminated countenance of a victorious maiden enamored with the lifeblood of the many corpses strewn upon the battlefield of our short time together.

The bereavement is fleeting, and the throb is dulled to a pulsing chill that drains into unnoticeable fade to black.
It was all a dream of things that never happened, things we repelled ourselves from, insulated.
A spark indeed...
A Morrison-esque ode to the spark that ignited the flame that consumed us in whole.
An ode to the strife of us that dare only to dare without the flint to ignite without an outside flint...
The daftest of the daft...
The kingliest of the fallen fool...
Your salvation, too.
An almost...
A should've been.
A casualty of wars that were beyond the grasp of what was intended, and what was hoped for.
A resurrection of a thing long thought to be dead, he was.
A light switch that was turned back on against its will, yet with total permission.
Go crazy...
Go insane...
Vault the hurdles of your inquisitively, but sheltered nature, yet succumb...
To the deep southern drawl of my...

My...
My...
My...
It is almost as if a woman wants to stifle the things a man stands for. A lucky man is the one that meets his match: a woman that speaks her mizzind...

In The Wink of a Young Girl's Eye...

 There is a time in everyone's life when they've decided it's time to call it a day.
"Goodbye, cruel world!!!" they'd say...
"Toodle-oo muthafuckas, can't stay!!!"
But when the time finally comes, to gives it your alls,
You fumble, and falter...
You coward, you have no balls.

 Unable to find the backbone to do the jerb yourself, you decide to delve into the seedy world of assisted suicide, to no avail...
What can you do? Many of us bear the Elric gene/curse to walk endlessly until the end of days...
Until the end. Why do we do this? This is not what we signed up for. We wanted nothing more than to bask in the glory of our victories, our day atop the shoulders of our peers as they slap our backs wholeheartedly...

Ahhhh, the glory days, that was all we wanted in the end. For them to never end, for them to never fade, for the newness of it to ever wear off...
To stave off the cold shroud of blackness that looms nearer and nearer, waiting for us to do the James Brown kneeldown so's he can envelop us in the chill of blinding despair. To wipe our feverish brow...
And to close our eyes for the last time. Not in death, but in prayer...
To ears that do not hear, and eyes that do not see.
In a realm that does not care for you, and definitely not for me.

Time to go watch some more ALF. I wish he was real, or that the tables were turned and it was I that lived on his planet with his peoples. I wouldn't eat cat, but I'd be down with the hunt.

Echoes of the Past...

My beloved ferret, Molly Echo, died between last night and this morning sometime. I really miss her right now. I feel bad because last night she was trying to get me to give her some outside time, and I was feeling too lazy to chase her down. Being ferretlike myself, it was always hard to find myself wanting to do anything other than curl up into a tight enough ball that the world's bullshit couldn't get in. She always wanted out. Everytime I'd walk by her cage, if she was awake, she'd immediately climb the rungs closest to me. She wasn't very well litterbox trained, but I'd take her out when I got home from work and put her in my room with me while I played video games. She'd always lick my feet, and my knees, and then frolic off to see what kind of treasures and mysteries she'd possibly uncover.
I know I could get another, but my heart is just not into it. I doubt I would/could get another without a much larger cage and wayyyy more free time to give them the affection they deserve. And I think it'd be better to get more than one, so they could keep each other company at other times. Molly really wasn't very social, like other ferrets. The person I got her from was neglectful in so many ways. When I first got her home, she ran loose. Then I realized that she just shit willy nilly all over the house and got her a cage. She never seemed to like it, but what else could I do?
I just wish maybe I'd taken her out more, gave her more loving squeezes than I did, anything. Everything.
Now she is gone. I will never again feel her kisses. Her licks. Even her claws in the shower, trying to climb my legs to get away from the water...
Goodbye, Molly. I did love you, and I'm going to miss the hell out of you. This is the 9/11 of all Sundays.

No, No, Not I...

Hey everybody. Here is a picture of my three cousins who belong to my aunt Margaret. I have no idea who the two tubby chicks in the white shirts are. Maybe they're in a gang, who knows?
Anyhoo, I was talking to the guy on the far left. His name is Paul, but I always knew him as Junior. He looked just like Howdy Doody. The guy in the middle is Dale, who I used to fight to the death every time we visited them. Then we stopped seeing them around... the time I got out of elementary school. Leesa, in the purple shirt, I saw when we took her with us to my grandpa's funeral.
So now I've semi reconnected with them via Facebook. Not Dale, I heard he's a partier, if'n you get my drift. Probably might not want to drink with him, but I'd share a doobie. I will probably see Junior when he comes up to see my parents.
Anyways...
Saw new Batman movie, Dark Knight Rises. Wasn't terribly impressed. I thought the new Spiderman movie was wayyyyyy better.
I was on my pain pills, to be honest, and I kept falling asleep. I will watch it again to confirm suckiness when it hits the cheap theater. I had most of last week off, and now I'm back to work. It totally sucks. I can't believe some of the people that are famous are actually famous. How? How?!?
I need to get my resume in for the promotion opening soon in my plant. I need to get off the line. And I need to be in an office, preferably reading the paper, preferably on the toilet...
Then I can jump to a plant elsewheres and where I'm the only person around. You could totally find ways to work out some with all that time on your hands. And ahhhhhhhhh, to be alone. Mostly...
I just wanted to check in. I'm fine, just kind of gimpy still in my back. Mentally hanging in there.
I will prevail.
I always do.
I will survive...
Hey, hey.

She say, methinks, and I do say said kitty doth haveth itself declawed. That, and not having a decent paw to stand, or limp, upon...
A reason...?
To satisfy my own lust for vengeance. So...
I will not do it.
I will let her decide what path she will tread. Apparently I'm a complete douche. Oh, I can remedy that. 
In a perfect world she'd just leave. Leave me and my daughter alone. I know this'll never happen unless I let her do what she thinks is the best plan of attack. It's kind of like The Walking Dead where Rick lets Shane dictate his own future. He stupidly picks the future where he gets shanked. 
Woops on him.,
And same to you, you disgusting, snoring/snoring piggeh.
Today I saw you happier in conversation with some complete tool than me. Where is my shiny thing? Where is my fucking shiny thing?
Sometimes I wonder why Cindi leaves more slack on the line for her mammy. She gives me zero.
Mini-me indeed...

Really, Dawg...?

 What up, dawgs? Not sure how many posts I've got this month but probably lagging behind once again.
Anyhoo, what can you do?
Just got back from seeing The Dictator, and ended up laughing my anus off. I think this is definitely a sign of good things to come. I'm truly ready to return to the fold. Something, something, something.
Blah blah blippty blah.

There are so many things I still want to do, and I isn't getting any younger.
Noooooooooo, sir.
I need a button that turns on the good chemicals in my brain at will.
Eventually, even that would become numb.
I'm sure I need to learn things like self control. Not in all areas, just a few.
Some things I just... can't say no to.
I think I've got the humble part down already, I don't plan on ever becoming the monster I became before.
Not really a monster, just totally in love with myself.
I'd love to go back to the mindset I had when I was, sayyyyy, 16-19ish. I'd probably just end up squandering it all again. Even with the knowledge I have now.
Ehhhhh, maybe, who knows?
I'd be able to get laid better, and more often methinks. I dunno what I was so scared of back then. Just learn how to treat them like unthinking fucksticks. Jizz receptacles, they seem to prefer that anyway. Don't they?
I've never been able to figure out why chicks would rather have a guy who is shitty to them than a guy who's completely in love with them, and who'd probably take a full clip of bullets for them.
I know that any and every day is one that you can start over, true. But it is extremely difficult to erase the past from your, and other's, memory.
Each individual stinging lash of missed opportunity, of personal buffoonery, brings tears which do little to wash away the betrayel of self idiocy I've ridden sidesaddle on for so long.
A childlike fool. An ass.
I do not like the future. In it I do not exist. Do I fear death still?
I did as a child, more because of my own uncertainty of where I'll be when I wake up after.
Now, I worry more about the pain and helplessness. That is, unless I die suddenly: accident or heart attack.
Today, when I was getting superhigh to go along with my hydrocodone and muscle relaxers, I took a hit and a weird feeling came over me. My mind felt like it was slipping away there for a few. I came back into focus and thought about death. Will it hurt? Will it be more a physical thing, or your mind being forced out of your meat puppet self? I think more of not seeing the few people I love anymore. But then again, will it even matter?
I know there's no happy place we go to in death where some giant reunion party just keeps playing over and over, but there's got to be somewhere that part of us that keeps a constant narrative in our head going has to end up at.
Ehhhh, probably not. Too bad, though. Some of us are worth saving.
The rest are zombie chow as far as I'm concerned.
I guess, in the end, I really had nothing interesting to say today, nor was it informative.
Self absorbed prick.
I'm 40 next month. I wonder if that's my halfway point, or if I'm being overly optimistic by a longshot.

Turn Me Loose...

 And I was here to please, I'm even on my knees, making love to whoever I please...
I gotta do it my way or no way at all.
Hey guys. How dare I quote Loverboy? I know, right? Anyhoo, just got back from seeing The Raven. Not a bad movie, I think it more of a bad timing thing as far as the release goes. Bummer for them. I give it a solid B. John Cusack's hair never ceases to amaze me either. Crazy man hair...

Watching/listening to Loverboy videos from the way back machine, also known as Youtube. It's always fun to reminisce back to the 80's, a time when the world was a safe place and I had not a care in said world.
Everything had that new car smell...
Know what I mean?
I guess most people are easily blinded by the shinyness of tomorrow's bullshit. I am not.
Let me go...
Turn me loose.
I'm tired of working for the weekend...
Because I'm definitely not loving every minute of it.

7/31/11...

Yet another reminiscence of things that've already come to not pass...

Ok, here it is. I'm just going to ramble...

There are constant reminders of my stupidity, of my weakness, of my...

Of my...

Wants and needs that are dashed upon the rocks of my addictions to the symphony of worldly clamors. And of flesh...

I will never change, I will never change. I am constant, you are all the ones who fluctuate. You ebb and flow like a river of shit that engulfs and floods my lungs with debris. I can't breathe, and so I flail. I flail...

In vain?

I can only hope not, or else I have nothing to look forward to than recording the demise of my soul in increments so minute that you need a microscope to dissect the idiocy that is me.

Wah, wahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

What happens when I become the butterfly?

Will I be pinned to the wall, or will you marvel at my beauty before smashing me upon the badminton racket of...

Justice?

"Methinks he doth whine too much."

He fucking doth.

Stop it, you two. You tear me apart. You shear me, my wool. Leave me naked, nude.

I scream for no reason, yet for all the reason in the world.

Where did I go wrong?

If you read this blog from the start, you will see a slow motion meltdown. I guess I was never right. Pride, and ill thoughts, will make the hardiest man rethink and re... re... re...

Get down to the shops and buy me a pack of fags, Storky.

I have been watching Men Behaving Badly, it is not a good role model for me. The U.S. version was great, but wow. The U.K. original is fantastic, I can't rave about it enough. A+.

"Fuck you, Ronnie."

Go easy on the sissy boy.

Really? I think I'm spritely and waspish enough. I will sting you, and the poison will spread. I will sting you, and the poison will spread. The poison will spread. The poison will... spread. It will... I mean it... I promise you that.

Don't fucking touch me, please. I really hate to be touched, or reminisced with.

This is my blog, this is my blog, and no one else's. I will say what I want here, and if you don't like it...

Leave a comment and an address so I can come over and hit you on the head with a tack hammer.

Robo Bonobo...

So it has begun. I am currently on a high fiber diet of lentils, bananas, intestine scraping cereal, etc. Trying to keep the meats to a bare minimum, going to sub with different beans and such. I need to drop a few pounds before I hit the gym, mainly the track. I should be there by next week.
I haven't drank in about... 40 days? I physically feel wayyyyyy better, mentally also.
Well...
Sometimes, at least. Other times I find myself wishing, pining...
Windows of opportunity once again on the mind.
Is it better to let them slam on your digits as you peek sheepishly into the darkness?
Or is it better to leap through, balls deep?
What if there is a pit bull waiting to chomp your silly ass?
Although you may someday find another to deaden the pain of the undearly departed, you are forced to relive realities that were never realized...
The woulda shoulda coulda beens.
They don't like to go away.
If wishes were fishes, I'd open a sushi bar.
And bask in your Glori.
I miss things like caring, and not wanting to skull fuck every idiot who dares cross my path. I want things like this back.
And I shall have them, failure is not an option.

R.I.P.
RONALD MCGRAVEH
2006-2012.

Lichy Woman...

 Wonders to behold, she'd said. Tales to be told, he'd read.
Coffers to be fed, my dear. Fortunes left for dead, I fear.
Melancholy wisps of gloom. They fail to quell our rising doom.
The risen flame was all for naught.
It sears the flesh, which hastens rot.