the running dude

the most quiet place in the universe, your hometown, 5:30 am , sunday morning.  drunks are in their niches still sleeping it off, frat brothers and sorroity sisters in the dark dreaming of last night's big game, church go-ers still not shuffling about in their kitchen.  no frying bacon or sausage aroma permeating the chilly morning air yet.  the occasional possum , racoon or deer looking at me like I've invaded their domain.  just running down the road, complete silence.  no input from any external source.  just dealing with the internal conversation that won't shut off.  if I can listen to it and answer it correctly i can make it another mile.  i know what it must feel like to drift through the galaxy on an eternal space walk.

better a melancholic than an alcoholic

five thirty this morning somewhere between huffman and crosby texas, as about wide open and desolate as you can get in harris county, texas, usa, just pumping gas minding my own business, humming an old tune to myself, hmm...hmmm..hmmm. loddy doddy doddy dah.  but who should approach me, the jehovah's witnesses wielding their literature. asking me questions like "have you thought about eternity, brother?", "don't you want to be one of the 144,000 kings in heaven rather than one of the infinite in hell" 

well, there went 15 minutes of my life that i will never get back. at least the think they have the answer, and they are blissful in their hallucinations.   wankers...

i really am a happy guy, one of the happiest you'll ever meet.  i'm part of the system, there's no getting off now, this train won't stop.  it only bothers me in the 10 or 20 seconds every night before i nod off to sleep.

the alarm clock blows the call of colors at 4:00 am every morning.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

got it made

made it through another day, still have a job.  made it to the weekend, i just might get some sleep. made it to another pay check without going bankrupt first.  made it through my thirties without losing my mind.  made it out the suburbs, so where the hell do i go from there?

Labor Day Blues

The wallet is empty.
It rains, it shines, it rains again.
Where do all these used cell phones go.
Hunk of silicon and transisters in my pocket which I don't even need.
My great-grandfather had a model T but never learned how to drive it.
My grandmother didn't believe men went to the moon.
She kept onions and potatoes in the barn and milked the cow everyday.
They had a party line until the late 1970's.
I used to talk to everybody down the dirt road.
It's that crazy-kid again listening.
The one with the typewriter.

Beware the Peanut Butter Gestapo!

Paragraph 1, sentence 1 of the capitalist conduct code clearly states, " no child shall be with peanut butter sandwhich upon school premises.  No peanut butter crackers, no peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches no folder over peanut butter snacks.   Any child caught with aforementioned taboo peanut butter substances shall be escorted to isolation room for the duration of lunch time."  This means you, Hannah Montana and Jonas Brothers fans!

OK. Fine.

Paragraph 2, sentence 2 of the capitalist conduct code clearly states , "In the event that a child should leave his or her lunch at at home, that child "shall be provided, at "no cost" to child with a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich"

Either I need to read that again or brush up on my Boolean Logic

Let's Type.....

Scribble Scribble Scribble

Found myself far away from a typer but with the moment of inspiration at hand.  Here's a page of noodles, misspelled words and all.  Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the show, buy me some nachos with monterrey jack, i could care less if their coffee is black........

Sad but true

Here's a word for ya. And it's real. I learned it from watching Wizards of Wavery Place.(The greatest TV show EVER!)

hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - it's the fear of long words(ironic, isn't it)

Oddly enough hippophobia is "the fear of horses".

Time for the typer