tap-tap-tap-pat-pat-pat

dear day of the week diary,

here we are at the magic day of the week and i am so pumped up i can hardly stand it. who, why, where, when, and for how long- i am not sure, but for right now, it is happening and happening fast. the hard place is where the rock is stuck and it wont be coming out any time soon and that is fine- nobody even needs access to that particular rock anyway. i have plenty of other rocks to loan out if someone needs one that bad. i'm thinking another fast nap wont hurt. that'll be where i am for the next hundred and forty one minutes and nineteen seconds.

finding new ones

dear heading out and gone again diary,

about how many wishes per thousand do you feel that you make actually come true? i feel somewhere between 841 and 919 of mine come true, out of a thousand, but you never know when those thousand bunches of wishes will stack up next to each other and the count will start over. i have a dry spot when my wishes kinda seemed to lag and then all at once it will come a big gush if wish and i'll be swimming again. i don't mind having my wishes come true so much, it just makes it a bit more difficult to try and replace them so fast.

the ugly foot chase

dear if it is missing diary,

if you don't have that piece that is missing from your heart and soul, then what are you? every play made consists on whether or not we are whole or not and finding a middle ground while singing and dancing is a hard job. i don't want to smoke my pipe somewhere else. i should be able to bust it out and burn it wherever i please. i saw an old  lady standing outside smoking a pipe the other day and she looked so stupid. men look stupid smoking on pipes too.

extra extra sour cream

dear getting it together diary,

finally drinking a pop is what it is all about. gulp the big one. i was thirstea. what a long day it has been already. this portion of my diary is sponsored by, La BAMBA'S,  'BURRITOS BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD.' you can visit la bamba's today at Burritos as big as your head! every time i go to the town where i would have been raised if my birth mother had kept me, i eat there at least once and sometimes twice. then i burp the shit for the rest of the day and just love every single tasty burp. you know, if you want my opinion, a simple burrito cant be beat. i think that is why my diary has been so successful too. there is nothing very complicated about my head and the things that go on inside there, so it would then be certain there isn't much you wouldn't be able to understand here.

change of address

dear i could move too diary,

now that i don't have a blanket anymore- that just means i have one less item to pack and move- notice the glass half full. out of the three new colors of nail polish i got the other day, the one i painted just now is what i am liking the best. i just re-read, "dear i could move too diary," at the beginning and it says what i want it to say, but it could say, "dear i could move to diary," but that isn't what i originally wanted it to say, but if i had put it that way- it would have been okay, because the name of my polish i used today was 'MY ADDRESS IS HOLLYWOOD' and it's flying up on my favorite list of new colors quick. if i could move TO anywhere- i prolly would move TO hollywood- for a while anyway and if i WANTED to i could TOO, but i don't want to. hollywood may be my 'address,' but i only go back to get the MALE every couple of years. that glass is still pretty full and pink ain't that bad i guess.

a very real message

dear i see stars diary,

usually i have to hit my head to see them, but when i downloaded my pictures tonight i saw stars and got a very clear message. i thought i was done posting the burning blanket and then there was this.

thank you

The burninG

dear hot and sweaty diary,

right on time, i wish i could post from the parking lot. but i don't want to yet. i can mini-post. here is what it looked like though. it was a hot ass fire and my blanket really didn't burn like i thought it would. it turned out to be made more of a plastic than what i'd ever imagined. it sort of burned for a few minutes and then began to bubble and melt. now it is sort of like a bag of chips instead if the ashes i figured they would be. but anyway, my job is done and now i don't have a blanket for tonight and when i got home i really noticed it wasn't on my bed waiting for me and it made me very fucking sad.

the burn style

dear jitter diary,

having the pre-blanket burning jitters is normal i think, after all it ain't everyday i get to burn up something i've wrapped around my body for at least twenty Christmas mornings- at least three of those snuggled with a snotty nose kid prolly, and a few with a big smart fat ass black dog and the rest with the grump and now becky- who finally took the final toll on my blanket. becky was harder on my blanket than anyone- but then my blanket was at the end of its' rope. i would catch my little princess pulling stuffing from small holes all the time until eventually she had it all pulled out and the little holes turned into giant long tears and that's led us to where we are today- the burn pile. i remember the day i could have fixed it. i'm glad i never did. it really is time for a new one. plus it really smells bad.

dolly downer

dear six minutes ago and twenty eight years diary,

today is a significant day no matter what year you pick inbetween this one and the last 28 that have passed, it is finally time for something wonderful to happen on this date. i coulda had my baby today, the doctor said he would induce my labor on today's date, but i couldn't do it- i did think about it briefly, but not today. i heard the garage door open that thursday a little after 6:PM and i knew my dad wasn't supposed to be home from visiting my mom up at the hospital until around our bedtimes, and when he came through the kitchen door and i saw the look on his face- i knew. he wouldn't be visiting my mother anymore. i knew i didnt have a mother anymore. the frozen orange juice i was making fell to the floor and i ran out the front door and sat for a couple of good hours on the bridge at the pond behind our house. her pain had ended, but my lifetime of pain had just started. maybe that is why i had it marked on the calendar the day william and harry both reached the age and hour and minute my mother disappeared from my life. we were sitting at the texas roadhouse when this turning point happened for william. i thought- what if i had just vanished RIGHT THEN? i remember, that was a hard dinner to finish that night. six minutes ago i just woke up and realized, it is thursday again.

jackknifed under the sock

dear so now diary,

i took my sock off because something just bit me on my ankle and i am pretty sure it was a flea. now MY dogs are fully fucking treated, but i was trampin around next door in the yard so i dunno if i could have possibly picked up one there or if i got bit by a mosquito, but i am keeping a sly eye on my sock turned inside out and i ain't letting up off of it until something jumps or i stop itching. so when the power gets switched into my kid's name at midnight and since the dumb fuckers left all the lights on, the unibomber is gettin ballsy and shuttin the main breaker off and padlockin it. the former tenants still have shit in the house, and our new lease starts in 19 minutes. at any rate, ima spray the yard tomorrow because it sure cant hurt and then hopefully i can get my schedule cleared for my important blanket burning. looking into the future about 8 hours, i see a very upset circus and i don't know why.

three steps out the door

dear stop looking at me diary,

snap your fingers. i said i am burning my blanket tomorrow. i still plan to. ima take it to my mom's and do it there. burn baby burn. it's gonna be so weird to watch it go up in smoke. rock on. fire will melt the ice. not a celebration really- but sort of. ima miss my blanket of twenty some odd years. and oh how odd the years were. every home i've lived in- i can see my fish blanket and knowing tomorrow it will be condensed to a pile of ashes in an envelope ready for my trip to the pacific coast highway one, just seems really fucking strangely comforting to me. thinking that my blanket will never provide the love and comfort it has shown me for close to a quarter of a century to anybody else ever again hurts and i know it is selfish to burn it- but i have to give it some final place where it can return into nature and hopefully one day find me again and make me whole. for my blanket this will be a three step process. the burning tomorrow, at 5:15 PM will be the first step. when i release the ashes in to the pacific- step two. when it finds its way back to me- the process will be complete- step three. i would keep it for another 25 years but it is all ripped up now and it is time to put my poor blanket to rest at sea. no sense washing it tonight. then.

the new release section

dear looking out for me diary,

i am not kidding you, things around here sure couldn't be any better. i am not worried about it. if you want to be sour and foul and live in a dank dismal world- that is totally on you. my world has light in it now and i'm enjoying every moment of it. i'm sorry if you're feeling left out, but i am tired of sleeping 19 hours a day and looking into the face of torment when i open my eyes. will this be a new chapter? will this be a new book? i sure the fuck hope so.

new people and old people

dear piece of shit diary,

getting up early is for the birds who want worms. i don't like worms, so don't bother breaking that out as bait iffin you're gonna fish for me later. i forgot what it was like to have a landlord. it's totally weird having someone knock on my door. i told the dude this morning, "fucking we are going to have to work out some kind of deal because i can not have you beating on my fucking door every time the rent is due, i don't get up until way past noon- today is a fluke." he assured me over and over he wouldn't, but i dunno, when he left i still had that feeling. i then called the city to order a recycle container and was informed there was already one at the house, but i've never seen one over there yet since they delivered them in may. so i went over there and asked them and after living next door to them for five years, they ALL OF A SUDDEN, didn't know who i was when i asked such a question. after i introduced myself, it turns out, the container was in the basement- question answered and problem solved. new question- why would you order a recycle container and not elect to use it?  people are strange- or maybe it's really just me. maybe i am the one who sees things in ways that are just all wrong. i dunno and fucking could care less, but i still ain't goin after a worm- not when there are big fat snakes to be had.

the IN styler

dear i need a haircut but dammit diary,

i have some long stupid bangs, and i need a haircut. sometimes my dreams are filled with a "to do list" as well as "the did list." but one thing i do know FO SHO, @eveldick will never cut my hair. @eveldick will not comb my hair. as a matter of fact, i can calmly say @eveldick will never even smell my hair. what i had last night was not a dream my dear friends and stawkers, that would be considered a NIGHTMARE. why am i the one plagued by dreams of this friggin idiot? it could really cause some serious psychological trauma to someone who wasn't prepared. good thing i am ready for anything and knowing the hero and cuntface has prepared me for it. ya live and you learn. SHOUT OUT to the 'IN' CROWD!

fear is the beginning of wisdom

dear not so fast diary,

whatever that was i had stuck in my gum i finally dug out with my dental pic and goodness it feels like i let the air out of a balloon under there and i think i should have been a dentist. it's better now, as are the moods of others, but the night ain't as young as it was earlier. i've painted my nails and had a nap, let the dogs out and had a huge dose of liquid tylenol. i am ready to lay back down and start to untwist the sad dreams i just had during my nap. i know that my dreams were nothing but a recap of the day and i hate those kind of dreams, but i don't get to choose. the unknown will lead you to fear and fear is the beginning of wisdom and i learned this many years ago. it is when i let go of the fear is when i became one with being retarded. i still should have been a dentist. i can sure tell when someone has a missing tooth.

a special slab of albawhore tuna fish

dear i dunno what that was diary,

seems like if you're to go fishing and you want to catch a certain type of fish, you wouldn't go and use what you know the fish you want to catch wont like. would you? especially if you've already tried and went fishing with that bait before? when i was little my brother and i used to go fishing behind our house in the pond and we always used bologna or hot dogs because the fish in the pond were your everyday whore fish and they would grab up and bite and hook on to about anything we would throw up in there. let me just tell you, and i am not the avid FISHERMAN, nor a hard working WORKMAN in disguise, so if you don't take my advice i wouldn't prolly blame you a bit but, if you want to catch a special fish- you might need to break out something a little more special than the bologna or the hot dogs.

a great anniversary gift
FOR THOSE NOT GETTING DIVORCED

grit and spit and shit

dear this is life diary,

if you see everything in a negative light, then your colors aren't right. things may be opposite of how they really are and the things that you see dark may in fact actually be bright. i'm not going to go around and change more things for you, but i think it is time someone else let you in on some newer clues. today - i think today- you had another bad day. i cant always make your troubles go away. it would be best for you to burn up your problems like a big bonfire anyway. let's take a journey if you will, beyond the fucking mistakes i made with bill. beyond further what first tore apart our marriage. let us go back to that very first time when you looked at me and crossed the line. we've gone back now a very long time. yet here we are bickering about the same old shit today, as if we just fucking met a week ago yesterday. i give you my blessing to go forth and be happy and if you need to be pissed, sad, mad, angry, or negative to make your impact in life.... by all means possible. 

up against the wall

dear people who throw things diary,

someday when i grow up, ima be with an adult male who doesn't throw items against the wall and then pick them up and bring them back and present them to me and say, "see! i hate you." i didn't throw said item against the wall. i didn't even know what went whirling across the room at such a tremendous speed-  all because i want my kid to move in next door. so now i have a pounding headache, and the unibomber has gone to mcdonalds. ahh, the peace and quiet of alone time.

THE 17TH HAPPY BIRTHDAY

dear true enough diary,

while it is morning around the area where i live and the sun is up and shining all over town and people are moving about so freely, i find myself awake too for a change. it wont be a permanent change, i'll be asleep again before the next hour is up, but ima flip over a few more times after i post this and prolly snuggle with my furry partners in crime and think about where i was seventeen years ago today. marty, my dog, got loose this morning (seventeen years ago) and i was late for a very important appointment. i was also supposed to have a light breakfast and ended up eating a half a pound of sausage and a half a gallon of milk. but i was home by 8:30PM that night and slept in my OWN bed, so i think i did pretty damn good. he weighed seven pounds and fourteen ounces and he was born at 1:47PM during one life to live, and i don't even watch that soap opera, because all the ones that aren't on cbs suck- but that's what was on. he was a big baby and he came right out. the unibomber was so proud. so we left and played lottery and went home and came back the next day to get the little fucker. PICK THREE THAT NIGHT WAS 713 AND I PLAYED 714 i was so pissed off- i wanted to beat my baby- but didn't. i think since i remembered that today, i will go ahead and beat him tonight when he gets home.

my 'dear' in the headlights

an order of pancakes w/ fried green beans

dear super duty diary,

my shoulder is itching on this grand evening before the 2011 farm progress show. i cant wait to go this year, i went the last time it was around last time too, but we have NO NEED TO WRITE ABOUT THAT DURING THIS POST. still my shoulder is itching and now i smell tomatoes cooking. that could be a good thing or that could be a bad thing. what i really need is a good new frisbee for this fall. our frisbee i found the other day and it's been chewed to a splintery puck. i could eat a fried green bean about now, but i dunno why- it just sounds really good at this moment. i think i'll make a pancakes instead.

we must never lose our yearning

dear garbage day again diary,

i wish more than anything there was some way to prove that having six times the stinking garbage hauling vehicles creeping around our city all week everyday has got to be equal to or worse than the amount of garbage we were putting in our landfill before they implemented the new recycling program for yard waste and recyclables. the trees along my street just seem to hold the exhaust from those foul diesel engines as they stop at each house and go, and stop, and go. don't even get me wrong, i am a fanatic at recycling and ima rinser too- i am a clean recycler. it's just that if we are trying to good things for our environment, why do i smell the exhaust from THREE trucks in my house every tuesday? since our recycling is paid for with our water bill, a city utility, and we have other city departments who sit around and do NOTHING while they aren't actually 'working,' i think it would be a great idea if the neighborhood firemen at all local fire stations would send crews out to walk and pick up their assigned recycling areas on a weekly basis. it would be a great way for the fire personnel to meet the people they will potentially 'save' and keep them from soliciting for anal sex on the internet when there isn't a fire burning. 

immigrants who cant pay bail

dear speedy trial diary,

rowing over to america on a boat from another country should not be against a criminal law, the poor immigrant should just have to row back. give them a box of ritz crackers and a jar of peanut butter and some welches grape juice and send 'em on out to sea. i'm sure the perpetrator isn't going to have access to bail or bond money once arrested and his boat impounded, so why cause further delay. if we had a little return basket waiting at all ports, maybe this would detour boating immigrants from sailing over here. i wouldn't want to have my boat impounded, or my little raft or inner tube. i would be so afraid i would get the wrong vessel back when i went to claim it and with so many juan valdezes in the world, how would they know which one to give me? i do, however, like ritz crackers and welches grape juice with concord cherry and peanut butter and i am not even an immigrant- but i can prolly come up with some bail. 

the hearing impaired cant read brail

dear smart fuckers who think they can tell you diary,

this robert louis stevenson fellow seemed to have things all figured out when he wrote down on a piece of paper, "the cruelest of lies are often told in silence." or maybe i have it all wrong, maybe he said it really loud at the dairy queen and someone ran over to him and asked if they could quote him. it is true though, what robert louis stevenson said, "the cruelest of lies are often told in silence," for there is something loud to be heard in the truth. it wasn't always like this was it? it used to be so easy. you've been here. you know where i am. i'm not going to say anything out loud however, because i don't need myself to hear the truth about anything at the current time.

me oh my oh

dear your cousin joe diary,

good bye joe, we gotta go, better quit your smiling. we gotta go, so pick up the phone and start dialing. call a cab, or ya better cook another slab, cuz i am starving. feed me now, i'm fat as a cow, and i ain't a lying. i'll slap your eye. you're a skinny guy. you piece of whore shit. you're so dumb, but you're the next one- i fell in love with. i'll tell my man, when i can and we will leave here. we will go to your bar and we will drink beer there.

leave the billy's alone

dear every sew often diary,

you'll get a hole in your pants. fabric has a tendency to wear thinner in high traffic places. it just cant be helped unless, i suppose, you pre-patch it where you know it's gonna get thin. that would be cute- to walk around with brand new pants that had patches on them. i dunno, if you could start a trend and make everybody do it- get true religion to put patches on all their new 2012 jeans- oh shit. i am kind of tired of holes in my jeans because i cant keep my fingers out of them and now i want to sew them all up. i think i am having a hard time accepting i bought all these pairs (for $200 plus) and they all have rips and holes and frays in them. get this, for a long time i pouted because i didn't get the destroyed billy jean i wanted last time i was in LA. i'm in the market again for some new jeans- not goin with the billy's. 

the ambitions of waldorf in michigan

dear now you're messin with diary,

i laid down to take my nap because i've been up now since about 1:25PM (where it matters) and just the second my fat- yet flat head slammed the pillow- THAT was when i realized- i hadn't posted yet- on here- so i sat back up (which was hard) and here i am- posting. if only i could smell my grandma cooking dinner ONE MORE TIME- i'd run into the kitchen SO FAST and hug the dog shit right out of her. my conversation with that one girl in washington today made me think of my grandma with the mention of waldorf salad. she said she'd never made any IN HER LIFE and i thought to myself how stupid that was living up there in 'applevillle' and then i got to thinking maybe washington ain't where they grow apples at- maybe that's michigan. i dunno much about washington- it turns out- other than they supposedly have big trees and lots of slate. i like slate when it gets wet in the fish tank. i bought a chalk board once and busted it up in the driveway with a hammer (which was also hard.) i once had a lot of ambition for a whore and now it has all changed to thinking about grandma and napping and making waldorf salad.

high (lol)

dear in bed posting again diary,

high lol

the entertainment factor

dear women who stick their twats out further than others diary,

one stands normal
one distended twat

all my life i have noticed that there is a certain type of woman who like to stick their pussy out at people when they are in public. i, for the life of me, have never been able to understand this practice- but i see it ALL the time. i have a couple of friends that do it- but usually only when they are plowed. my one friend, "debbie," she's been doing it since we were in high school and she's pretty damn good at it. she can slide her pussy damn near right up on you and you'll hardy notice- til it is too late. i always carry a little salt with me and if she gets it comin towards me- i treat it like a slug. i don't want her pussy anywhere near me, but i do regret not introducing her to the hero. something tells me they would still be in love today. i always try to keep her away from the good ones. my other friend, "bonnie," she would not just poke her pussy out at ya, she would back it up to you and swing it around. she was a dancer, ole "bonnie" was. let me tell you another thing about "bonnie," i went over to her trailer one time and she was fucking dude on the couch and the whole trailer was shakin. NO LIE. i just left. i went on HOME. i didn't want to smell that. you wanna stick your pussy out- go ahead. but please- not in EVERY PICTURE OF YOURSELF. gawd. better yet, just get a tattoo OF YOUR PUSSY ON YOUR PUSSY. that would be SO HOT. i try and be kind to women who stick their pelvis our further than their face at all times- it must be a sign of inferiority to other women and our vagina's. to me all women parts are virtually the same. it is what is in hearts and minds that make us different. well that and what we can each do with our mouths. and i still dont have a single tattoo.

formula 441 (the duster)

dear over time diary,

if i were not a shy fairy i would know how to sprinkle some fairy dust because it seems like every time i hear the water run, i have to suddenly pee- even if i just went pee. i've talked to my doctor about this and i think it is psychological and not something i'd like to attempt to correct with surgery. you see, my mom used water to get me to pee when i was a kid, she'd turn on the faucet at church or at kentucky fried chicken- i never could pee with anyone else in the bathroom hardly, so now as an adult, naturally every time i hear water running- i need to go. now about the fairy dust, i want to get some of that shit because it will help me complete a very important project. i would keep my fairy dust in a special fairy dust sterile specimen jar with the hopes that no non-fairy dust would ever come in contact with it and contaminate it and possibly ruin the level of purity. like first  morning urine, fairy dust is strongest when it is unmixed with other pollutants and unfiltered by design. i think it might be best, for now, just to worry more about making it to the bathroom- rather than keeping my jar sterile for my fucking fairy dust. i can always run it back through the dishwasher if i run across more later.

$41.oo a night w/electricity hook-up

dear the other way around diary,

taking the long way home is often fun and can be a learning experience if you pay enough attention to things that you pass. i thought about doing a little camping on the way home tonight, but i didn't have my tent in the trunk and i thought i did- so that was disappointing on all fronts. but i made it home and i am painting my nails, vodka and caviar, a yummy red, on some damn perfectly manicured nails- so when i wake up on the retarded monday morning- i'll have the most beautiful nails on my street. i absolutely adore the color red anyway. the only color red doesn't match is pink and it'll even match pink if you make a big ass deal about it. i don't really like the color pink- to be fair- i recognize it as a color and all, but pink is for girls and pussies. beauty is important at the end of your fingertips because if you cant have it anywhere else at your reach, you might as well have it there- even when you stop and go camping on the way home.

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

dear oh for fucks sake diary,

ima just say it. now that i know cuntface and the hero read my blog like the daily news, (i woulda said BIBLE but something wouldn't let me) i have to keep my ass cheeks squeezed together at all times and a sock stuffed in my mouth to muffle my screaming outbursts. i knew they did already, before yesterday, because i am dumb, but i ain't stupid, but just knowing makes it so much sweeter. not having contact with those two individuals is the best thing ANYONE could have ever done for me- it has helped me so much. i have grown as a person. i am sorry it was at the expense of others, but that's the way they wanted it. all i ever wanted was to sit down and be adults. there was never a need to stick a tongue out or rub noses in the shit. attention had to be drawn and i drew it. sure, i have no intention of stopping now- because WHY SHOULD I? i have a show booked! i took the lemons served to me and made lemon-aide. you cant fault me for that. after all cuntface- that is the initial reason lil daddy hero came to visit my fruit stand- (for five years).

the kidney donation banquet

dear having three inches and no more diary,

don't worry perverts, this post is not for you or about you. i had a hard time stretching out my legs last night because i had two huge dogs who gave me three inches and no more of my side of the bed and let the unibomber sleep like the queen he is. it didn't stop me from dreaming though, i got to learn all about the process of kidney donation from a really cool ambulance driver and i went to a yummy church banquet where i had a big piece of fluffy chocolate cake and the best fried chicken ever- in the world ever. i cant help but wonder about that MLK thing in washington today and how irene must have ruined that for everyone. i wanted to go briefly, because i have never been to anything like that, but we decided not to months ago because of my other upcoming trip. i broke a nail last night so all of my other nails got filed down to a human length and they are still long. once again, i had no idea how long they'd gotten. they must grow while i sleep?

a health scare

dear a quick fix diary,

i've been thinking and i'll be the first one to readily admit, y'all can tell when i do my share of that- NOT OFTEN. i mean, i do all my thinking here- so you know when it does happen. with that said, it is fixin to happen again folks, so get the exhaust fans kickin. how can you fix something that has gone so terribly wrong over a period of time? well, i don't know. i suppose one of the first places you would start would be clear back at the beginning, where it all went wrong. the pages of time are heavy, especially when you have to go back so far. i dunno if it would be worth all the effort- for you- at all. sometimes it's best to start all over again, i'd think, and walk clean away from all of the mistakes in the past. maybe try and be honest and faithful this time and have one genuine relationship that will last. try and find someone who will accept you- for who you really are, that light hearted fun exciting man- who likes to fuck in the car. maybe the ugly in you will not come back if you are really loved like you should have been, you wont have to roam the earth and keep looking. i don't know what you're going to go, and i really don't care, but you are going to die of AIDS pretty soon, and nobody will be there.

never forget what you are

dear settle down and drop to the ground diary,

the increase foot traffic is not surprising. it hurts me really. i think it might have been easier to wonder- like bread. i don't eat much bread and i didn't wonder much either because deep inside i knew. i think we all did, so why i got a big boner over it yesterday is beyond me, but i suppose it was something anyone who knew me would have expected, hell even i could have told you i would react in such a way, but right now it's like soap in my eyes. but it'll be stupid again and i will very soon laugh so hard. oh because there is nothing more funny than a handsome pile of shit in the yard. i may even plant mums in my own boulevard this year, but i'll bet i can even keep mine from dying- even though, as we all know, they shouldn't grow there.

knee socks when the boots are off

dear my allergies diary,

i am sneezing already and usually this shit doesn't start until the end of september. the farmers are already starting their harvest this year- prolly the earliest harvest in 20 years. a few years ago, shit, them fuckers didn't get in all the crops before it got snow on them and they had to wait until february to finish harvest and turned right around and planted a month later again. that was awful that year. i felt bad because the weed crop suffered too. the potheads been doing pretty good this year though, prolly cuz i ain't smoking. rat bastards- don't you know it, as soon as i take my stocking hat out of the ring they want to get all organized and have the bestest year ever. in history. i have my feet propped up on the grump right now and he is not complaining- at all. how 'bout that. i am doing ankle exercises. in canada they promote foot exercises during commercial breaks. that's cute and a swell example of a public service announcement that is worthwhile. well, ima get this bitch spell checked and off to the publisher so i can drivel on to another topic.

the nightlight

dear that dump diary,

i used to love fun things in the night time. the dark sky is easy on my eyes and always has been. i really am not much of a big fan of the daytime. it is hard for me to get my eyes opened up all the way. i understand things better at night anyway. once the lights came on though and it started being daytime at night in my life- that's when i said fuck everything. i cant tell you when exactly that day was, but it happened. so now the only time it gets dark in my life is when i fall asleep and even then- every now and then- sometimes the light will seep in. i 'll wake up with a tear or two and i'll wipe it away. but when i do back to sleep- it will be light when i wake up later anyway. you stole my thunder and you stole the rain and now you've directed all the light to shine into my brain. seeing the information in such brutal clear light is something your wife and family should deal with- not one of your retarded whores you kept on the side. i saw the stupid childish warning on the wanna be page, THE KARMA TRUCK IS COMING, and only one i can say... are we acting our age?

i drove all night... once

dear it's been hard all day diary,

making goals and keeping them is so damn hard, for me. self restraint is what i find the most difficult of it all, holding back when i know that i can easily have as much as i want. betcha that is why i sleep so much because i got the go ahead to do it whenever and however and wherever for as long as i possibly can at each time i can. i tried living normally- for the longest stretch i ever have and it was devastating. in fact i am still dealing with things that happened during that time today. but then there ain't no sense getting all choked up about it- after all- there is nothing special about me after all. however, every once in awhile in my regular life, i do creep out from under my heavy dark shell and emerge victorious in life- even before the hero popped his jagged missing tooth into my life. it happens. i promised myself i would end last week with fifty-one posts and i did that. this week i will end with fifty-two and that is just stupid. but that is how ima do it. then it'll be time for fifty-three and the nifty whore and sammy hagar and digger and the highway to chicago (or fuckingham) and then maybe after then i'll forget. prolly not. but i might forget a number. HUH ROGER?