Come And Visit Me in Music City...

I'm recovered from a long weekend with my family, a lot of air travel, frequent collisions with the ground while strapped to a board, and a hangover that I thought might have been the flu. . .

. . . just in time for New Year's Eve. Oy Gevalt!

Trying to get work done so I'll be caught up, but requirements are unclear (actually, clearing them up is what I'm trying to get done), and it's tedious, messy stuff. I'd much rather be watching a movie, or sleeping, or having lots and lots of sex (which I can't seem to get off my mind this afternoon, for some reason). I'd settle for going home and masturbating, but my living room is host to my sister who's in town for a tango get together, so I'm just going to have to wait a few days.

All and all, though, it's not too tough being me, is it?

This Is Not The One I Wanted

He Says.


This is the first night in a while I've come home from work and just sat around by myself. This is the time alone that I thought that I needed. Once again, I may have been wrong. I'm antsy and itching for social interaction.

I think I may go to bed instead. It's safer in there.

Then My Shoes Fell Off

Maybe I should have stopped to tie them, maybe I shouldn't have worn that pair at all, but I liked them, and I liked where I went with them, and I wouldn't have been able to get there anyother way.

Maybe it is time to walk barefoot for a while.

The Writing On The Wall

There is something that I am forgetting, and I do not know what that thing is.


Work is busy, but I think things are under control there. I have very little worry in my social life right now. Finances could be better, and I'm not in the shape I'd like to be in, but there's nothing new there. Why then am I walking around feeling like there's a knot in my shoelace that I haven't had time to get undone. I can still walk without tripping, but I can't lace my shoe up all the way either. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to sit down and see just how tightly it's wrapped.

Bananas And Dancing with Toothbrushes

Gritty.

That's how I like to feel in the morning. Like some hung over, cigarette smoking, coffee drinking, aging private detective, dragged from bed after a late night stakeout to follow up on a new lead. It's helpful to live one's life like a bad movie plot, especially in the AM, when you're not a morning person, and getting out of bed seems like a special hell. Problem is, I don't smoke, I'm not a PI, and I don't even drink coffee.

It's hard to look tough with a Felix the Cat mug full of hot cocoa.

Early to Bed, And Early to Rise...

...makes a man or woman miss out on the night life.


Part of my brilliant plan, since work has become a little unpredicatable and I never know what time I'll be leaving, is to rise early (before 6:30 is early in my book), and go to the pool for a swim. I've been trying to do this every other day. Yesterday, my off day, I had to catch a 7:00 train to LA, so I've been up at this ungodly hour three days in a row.

I feel like hammered shit.

I suspect, subtly, yet deeply, that so called "morning people" are evil and that God has put such individuals on this earth to make me feel bad.