the tale of a bloody tail

dear death on my wall diary,

he said he wanted to kill me today and that was around 7pm. then he told me to, "GO TO SLEEP," and that was after that, so i'd say around 8:30pm. then around 9:15pm i noticed the blood. i have the blood streaks all over my back and arms, my right whole side is just stupid, i look like i've been involved in a crime. so i tell the unibomber, 'somebody is bleeding,' and i see him in the kitchen checking the grump- says he cant find anything. so then i come back in the bedroom and see blood splattered all over the wall. all i can think about is forensics in here having a field day. i've now watched dateline and 20/20 in my head, even pinched myself twice to make sure i wasn't dead, and then i checked the grump- proving once again, if you need to do something right you gotta do it yourself.

99 red balloons

dear built for five hundred and seventy five germans diary,

when words fit together sometimes they become music. sometimes those same words become a threat to someone else and sometimes the words are meaningless to yet someone else. who determines which ears the words will fall upon? if you overhear a conversation of mine and suddenly fear for your life, have i threatened you? don't look for problems where they don't exist. your car always made that noise. things tend to change over a period of time and so why cant meanings and perceptions? all i am saying is, i still like the same music i listened to 25 years ago, but when i listen to the words now i know what they mean. and the new music, well, it just doesn't make much sense yet, but i am sure it will in 25 years.  

important insurance documents

dear alphabetical order diary,

starting from the beginning again, it is easier to find things when you keep them in some sort of order. be it chronological, numeric or alphabetical- it really doesn't matter how you organize the shit as long as the person who organizes it remembers how they did it. my central method used is the gas log and my bill bag, both of which i am a diligent keeper of. i used to do the whole filing cabinet deal, but that got old fast. when my bill bag gets full, i tape it shut and date it and zip it with the others in the basement. i credit this system for being able to find every single paper i needed recently when requested. if ida had to look through a bunch of files, fuck, it's hard telling which file ida put that shit in.

i want a moon channel

dear all day diary,

now that the networks have killed off all the soaps, what are all the white trash story watching skanks supposed to do all day long? one life to live was on when i had my baby. what will be on now when the babies come flying out? in fact, what will be on the tv where the soaps used to be? certainly not game shows. although, i would prolly watch a season of hollywood squares or password. they ought to start up a daytime bigbrother. i don't know, but something needs to give. you know shit is getting bad when you choose to watch a series on TWC. by the way, didn't cable prices go up today?

the space cadet (with the blue barret)

dear what you know diary,

it isn't so much what you know, it's what you don't know that will getcha. every time. i certainly don't go around claiming to know everything, because i don't want to know everything. it would suck to know everything, think about it, then you would be bored and frustrated. i know what it's like to be bored and frustrated and not know a fucking thing, i do it everyday, but i do know some stuff. i love becky. i know i live by a standard i am willing to defend. i know that other people come first and that was how i raised my boys. i know if the world does ever get like the goat says it's going to, i'll be one of the first to go just so the greedy can have that little bit extra. i don't like dehydrated food anyway.

carry on without the check-in

dear little diary of mine diary,

so here we all are, standing (or sitting) at the cusp of what could be the beginning of something beautiful and yet that memory is still so fucking ugly. i had defined sanction in my own mind and Karma had even better ideas. i wait, determined to someday find my own important niche in the grand scheme of things, but even if that never comes again, there are few who've done all that i have. i try not to think that i may have 'missed' my flight into the world of opportunity, but merely chosen to take a later flight. i need to travel light. i must rid myself of the old fashioned luggage i tote and get new lightweight but durable baggage. a suitcase just cant weigh fifteen pounds empty anymore.

doggy style

dear sandy sheets diary,

there is so much dirt in my bed now that shaking the sheets doesn't do any good anymore. ima have to buckle down and wash everything i suppose. i'm finding dirt in my pants and on my back and everywhere else, which gave me a new found love for the fur project the dogs have going on. i've also found the less i shave my legs, the less the dirt tends to stick there. i really don't mind sleeping in all of the sand and dirt and grass because what i get in return is worth the trade off. also, in the higher end plush resorts, rich fuckers pay tall money to have mud slapped all over their bodies and i have that right here at home. it sucks though, having to make a reservation in my own bed, but it ain't nothing my foot cant handle.

turnabout fairplay

dear sleeping diary,

this is how i slept last night, like shit. iffin i wasn't tossing, i was turning. then when i did slow down to a stop, i was on my back and i am not a back sleeper. then the unibomber farted in his bed across the room and it sounded like a volkswagen horn, all long and high pitched, and it startled both dogs and made me laugh. then everyone wanted to go outside and when becky came back inside she was so cold it almost killed her. i had to hurry and let her under the covers and back up on my chest where she immediately made her little grunt noise and went back to sleep. i just listened to her breathe and warmed each paw one by one with my hands. i could prolly snuggle up to her again right now and lay my head on her chest and make a little grunt noise and stay there all day. if i tried to fart that long though, i would shit my pajama pants. beep beep.

12 frozen discs a year MAYBE

dear pizza cutter diary,

i never thought having a pizza cutter would make a difference in my kitchen. once again, i was wrong. so thinking back over the last 20 years and all the pizzas that have come through my kitchen that were cut with a knife, well now that all seems stupid. i'm not the one who even likes frozen pizza and i suppose that is why i never leaned towards getting any appliance to cut them easier. but now that i have my very own pizza cutter, i am ready to face any challenge in the kitchen. just having it over in my spatula jar makes me feel fully prepared. i think i will buy a frozen pizza soon and try the bitch out.

i didn't tell her it prolly wasn't mine

dear blank mind diary,

i got that sick feeling in my stomach tonight at the bank when i went in to order the new atm card. my old mortgage loan officer saw me and knew about some things in my life and asked me a question i should have 'ready fire' known the answer to and my mind went absolutely blank and stayed blank for over 90 seconds. the information just would not come. for those 90 seconds i was disorientated, scared, and frankly just shocked. i wrote in my calendar, 'first signs of alzheimer's 1/12/12 4:50pm.' the lady at the bank got a kick out of my delay, but you know she was thinking, "who cant remember their only grandchild's name?"

blue tip strike anywhere blow shit up

dear wet lighter diary,

things that are safer for the environment can sometimes seem less fun. i don't mind the smell of sulfur when i strike a match, but if i burp sulfur OMFG. i haven't had egg burps in a long time, knock on wood, and i like those wooden strike anywhere matches that come in a box. i used to keep a zip-lock baggie of those in my glove compartment when i was young and on the run. i have enough money to stop and buy a lighter nowadays. i get egg burps on road trips usually, like if i eat a cream filled donut and sit for about nine hours.... that'll do it. but i can get them at home too if i try really hard, but sometimes you never know. i cant be the only child to ever make a bomb with all the broken heads of the match sticks, but i prolly am the only one who couldn't light the fucker until the lighter dried out. i don't travel with matches anymore, however, lighters are safer for the environment and everything.

there's never been any reason.... save my life i'm goin down for the last time.

uuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggghhhh

dear hair in my bra diary,

again. i have the same problem. the exact very same problem i just fixed. it took me two times to get it right and now i have to go all through the process again and it is not a simple method i use to alleviate the issue again re-presenting at the current time. ima need at least 20 yards, of duck tape i am talking about and prolly two hours and a bright light. then i will need the patience of four monks to sit through the painstaking effort of plucking the cups of my bra. i wish i had an illegal immigrant to de-hair my bra every night before bed. my boobs itched all day and finally i looked down my shit and saw a thousand eyelashes poking me. i took that fucker off and i haven't itched once since. omfg.

when i grew up i said, "fuck a screwdriver."

dear if i were a dandelion diary,

my mom always sent me out with two super long standard screwdrivers to dig up the dandelions out in our yard. there were never very many dandelions, but there were always a few that would sprout up in the spring and just annoy my mom. so off i would go with my sand bucket and tools to destroy them, knowing of course the importance of getting as much of the root as possible. sure, it was so much easier to just pick the dumb yellow flower, but somehow my mom always knew when i didn't get the root. she said i was a good digger, but the screwdrivers usually did most of the work. some of the dandelions had roots like carrots though and some just plain wouldn't release from the earth. i guess if you are really happy and secure where you are planted in life, even a little dumb bitch with two screwdrivers and a sand bucket on a mission cant fish you out. but the big daddy can when he comes along with the weed killer. dandelions don't really bother me as an adult- like they did my mom. but what i really cant stand are marigolds.

taking out the trash

dear scary poost in the diary,

'poost,' is one of those typos i have to leave. besides, where i intend on going with this post,  poost may end up being the most appropriate word. anyway, what i was saying before, sometimes there are things that i write that just make more sense than others. it's like, 'garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage, WOW, garbage, garbage, garbage, WOW, garbage.' but then after a period of time, i dunno, months maybe, i go back and read the shit that i've posted and i'm mortified. i didn't write those words. i don't even remember thinking that shit- like how could i have written that shit? but then i'm like, 'well who else knew that shit?' for awhile i wanted to just delete delete delete..... delete everything, but i cant do it. i have far too much appreciation, respect and admiration for what i have accomplished and how far i have come. being able to see this mapped out before my very eyes is nothing short of a masterpiece really. if you are only as sick as your secrets, i have one very healthy soul.

wipe your face off (don't forget)

dear sweaty old man diary,

late at night in the park where the swimming pool used to be, there is a place where you can go and have the best oral sex. you have to hurry up though, so it is important to bring or meet the right partner there. if you got a daytime job, you're doing it all right, but it's a busy place on a friday night. oh yeah, once called the colorado place, i don't give a damn, it ain't called rock and roll, i don't even play real, or for keeps. what matters doesn't and what doesn't matter does matter to someone, just not me. did you hear the time bell ring? it might be time for you to go home.

dire straits by nexxus

dear friends in jail diary,

i have two friends in jail right now, ima call them 'crank' and 'lady shocker' and they are doing ten days each in another state for little dumbass charge they came home with last summer. lady shocker has never even had a speeding ticket so this is all new to her and i spent some time with her before she left. i have been thinking about her all day today, wondering how she is doing and i realized about dinnertime, i haven't thought about crank once. so, i called kyle, and kyle is his real name, SHOUTOUT KYLE, and kyle let me talk to lady shocker. those little tough small town county jails are cool after hours. she and crank get to eat dinner together every night. lady shocker is doing all right but she said she sure could use some air mail and hair conditioner. 

lots and lots of extra time

dear a brain leak diary,

sometimes when i lay on my side i can feel the fluid that surrounds my brain start to seep down and trickle out my ears and that shit tickles so bad i try and itch it with my tongue in the back of my throat and i stick a q-tip in my ear to absorb the liquid, but i never soak up anything and it just keeps on driving me nuts. i know i have sanitary ear canals now because the q-tip usually comes out smoking clean. the only time my q-tips come out dirty is when i've been playing out somewhere i shouldn't have. since i no longer participate in corporate leadership sessions with anyone employed by my city, i feel there is no longer a need to keep track of any extra time taken to mop up the seepage from either one of my ears.

picking out a spot to drain you

dear truth of the matter diary,

it isn't nothing if it's something. but it still could be nothing even it it's something. i've been talking to the headhunters again- i like those guys. i think often times they just want to prove themselves more than take over the world like it seems. there might be a place in that world for me, oh but i don't know, but maybe i will know when i get there. if you find it necessary to walk me to the door, please don't bother to open it. i'll just have to walk around you then and that will be awkward.

mud cakes

dear shit in the mud diary,

i remember taking a shit in the tall grass as a child and getting chiggers in the crack of my ass and there ain't nothing much worse. visiting my aunt donna was always fun because she and uncle oliver didn't have an inside bathroom and i'm the child who refused to shit in the little bucket under the bed. it amazes me that home and property, complete with its own cemetery, just sold for nearly a quarter of a million dollars, $230,000 to be exact, especially when most of the house was made out of mud bricks from the creek that runs behind the house. there is a cool bathroom in the house now, one that i know i would feel comfortable shitting in, but i still don't mind shitting outside once in awhile.

our lie begins. u lead me on- to the sweetest thing. what's it gonna do to make a dream survive?

red, yellow, and ima mean mommy

dear ode to the meat market diary,

driving along in my automobile, determined to get a tree someday out of that forest again i shall steal, i was thinking about feeding the hungry snapping fish in the aquarium last night in my dream, it was there at the stoplight i heard the child next to me in the back seat scream. i paid no attention as the light finally turned green- i kept a straight look ahead, happy to leave. on to buy meat that i like to eat, no more catering to small picky feet. it's true that it's easier not being a mother to small children anymore, but it's alot more fun being a whore.

swallowing the pill (it finally went down)

dear get it tight diary,

usually when i make up my mind, i try not to change it. that doesn't mean i wont change it, that just means as a general rule i try really fucking hard not to. but i will and i have and most of the time i wished i hadn't after i did and that is why i try to follow that one particular rule i set for myself. we've all changed our minds about something. but not changing our minds can be just as big of a mistake. something clear today may be cloudy tomorrow. something remembered yesterday could be long forgotten in a week. but something etched into the soul like an inkless tattoo is a scar. usually when i make up my mind, i wont change it. that doesn't mean i wont try and change it because i always fucking do. i need to thank you now for all of the help you gave me.

with a banjo on my boot

dear neck of the guitar diary,

as it was, back in the day, when i lived amongst the untalented raw undiscovered musician in my house, i didn't have any problem getting from one room to another. i would just dodge the kongs and go about my way. but nowadays, things are much much different. with an electric guitar in every room, some with four strings- some with more strings, it has become quite difficult to display my many pairs of boots. i am finding myself putting my boots into the closet, a place where no fine boot should be. the musician wants a new and different guitar for every song he can play, he has three now because he sold one after he couldn't learn a hard song on it. i've given a few thoughts to a sudden 'talent' for the banjo, but i don't think i could sit through that myself.

i want to return this

to the original owner

oreo's anyone?

they don't make sox like they used two, three would be better

dear pressing run and you're done diary,

since i do not have any clean socks, i figured it was as good of time as any to just go buy new ones. i haven't treated myself to new foot coverings in exactly two years. i am not the kind of whore that is picky about socks. if my socks are clean, meaning laundered, i'm happy. i don't even mind little holes, but the unibomber will throw a major temper tantrum if he has even a snag in his sock. sometimes it seems silly to reject a perfectly good sock just because of one tiny hole, but i've seen it done.

looking at the camera

dear during all the action diary,

this is the post about a really fine afternoon spent in bed doing nothing but eating cornbread and eating beans. ooh-la-la-la-la. it was hard napping with those little fuckers cooking all day smelling like Heaven in a pot. when i first decided to make ham and beans the unibomber told me he didn't want any because he didn't like lima beans, which he considers 'poor people food.' i love ham and beans and would never use lima beans for my undertaking. all behaviors are gestures. doing what i do best is becoming easier everyday. maybe there will become a time i get so good at it i can teach everybody.

sweet cornbread

dear you have no right diary,

fuck i forgot to soak the damned beans. i am so glad you reminded me before i fell asleep here in your lap. ima make ham and beans. i may not have posted the menu, but there it is. when i go, i go fast. that is why it's important for me to go when i think about it or i never will.

red robin hair net

dear hope you don't mind diary,

there has been a long hair in my shirt all night pissing me the fuck off and i finally removed my shirt and found that fucker, is what i did, and now i will be able to sleep. i love to floss my teeth. when the string presses against my gums it makes me feel alive- is what it makes me feel like- even when i feel dead. i hate the feeling of meat between my teeth, or anything else really, but meat is just annoying as fuck. i'll spit a hunk of meat across the room before i even think twice about it and i sometimes wish i wouldn't do that- like at the restaurant and shit, but that's why i like to eat out of town. well, that and i'm less likely to run into my fan club. well those reasons and there are better places to eat hundreds of miles from here.  

honey on my hankie

dear using my baking sheet diary,

i am making big fluffy biscuits on my new baking sheet. ima put a piece of ham on one biscuit and chow down and watch californication and drink some cold milk. on another biscuit ima put a pat of butter and some honey and just eat it that way because ima sucker for some butter and honey on about anything. tomorrow ima make ham and beans, so ima soak the beans after i watch some hank. i might watch hank again tomorrow night and have beans and hank. a handful of mini m&m's will be good until the biscuits are done.

the headlight

dear elvis diary,

happy birthday elvis. i wonder how different the world would be if you were still alive? are you still alive? my mom thought you were a spawn from the devil, but i think she was just secretly sexually attracted to you. she listened to your music all the time, i used to catch her. she let my little brother dress-up like you on halloween in 1979, he was 8, and you're who he wanted to be that year. after weeks of begging, our mother made his costume and slicked his hair back and everything. i hope you find my mom up there in Heaven and hang out with her sometime. she would love that prolly.

blister on the ham

dear warmer oven than cold diary,

the secret to making a good ham is to heat that fucker up without cooking it. you just want to barely warm the bitch because if you overheat a ham it tastes leftover. you know a ham is already cooked, so when i turn my oven on to heat up a ham, i keep it on low. i love a sweet ham anyway. if i was a smart thinking whore, ida got some sweet potatoes, but smashed potatoes with butter and cream will be fine. i like green beans with my ham and thank goodness i was thinking when i got a bag full of fresh ones to cook with my ham today. man oh man i love ham and green beans together. something like that just sets a sunday off. i may have to make cookies on my new baking sheets later, i still haven't used them. becky doesn't like the taste of ham, but she likes cookies and green beans.

the plastic sack

dear giving it all away before it is taken diary,

yesterday's argument with the unibomber left me at odds with myself. we fought about needing and wanting. i stopped wanting when i realized i have all i need, which incidentally wasn't that long ago, just the other day in fact, but it did happen. the unibomber says a person "NEVER" stops wanting, but i truly believe i have. when i asked him what it was he 'needed' that he couldn't go out and obtain, he couldn't answer. when he asked me what it was i 'wanted,' honestly, i could think of nothing. this morning in the kitchen, i noticed i needed paper towels, tinfoil, and dishsoap- but if i want to get that shit... I CAN. so i suppose i do want some things still. but will it make me happy though when i stand in line to buy my needed items that i want? define need. define want. and now define happy. they all mean three different things. 

be that as it may

dear outside key diary,

i don't keep an outside key around my house. if i get locked out, i go over to my dad's house and get his key and use it. but i just haven't locked myself out lately, for a long time actually, so hopefully that part of my life is behind me. a giant leap of faith is what you must take to think things will always work out perfectly, but this is close enough for now. the departed are defenseless and i suppose that is why we're supposed to keep from speaking ill of them, but i do so admire sentiment. if you take it and call it even, then you'll think you wont owe me anything, but i'm not after your money. waste not want not. good business is what i will bring you on the days you have nothing to do.