I.M.A. (international man associate) aka Mr. WrightMan

dear the hands reach down diary,

it certainly managed to be a gradual change. nothing about it happened overnight. when i look back on the mysterious set of events, my heart always starts racing. there's plenty of ownership in the actions i've participated in, but i sit amazed in the dramatic lessons i've had to learn. but i cant help but wonder what lessons others have learned? my mind just goes wild with curiosity. how are you doing mr. wrightman?

no free refills

dear right on it diary,

the perception of help is difficult to accept when you don't immediately feel the need for assistance. it is hard to drink when you're not thirsty. it seems important to me to just keep on, no matter if the help is there or not, it is my nature to just keep on- to gain the distance- fuck speed. i prolly could have done a better job in the end WITH HELP, but it still got done. here come all the suggestions about how i could have done it better, but i didn't ask for help. prolly cuz i didn't need it.

crunchy apples for my lunch

dear if i had an apple diary,

i wish i had a big ass honeycrisp apple about now because i would eat that bitch in a hurry. for a limited time i might even consider sharing that apple, but that offer will expire shortly. i don't like to share and never did. to share means you care and i care so i don't share- if that makes any sense and if it doesn't well, i don't care much about that either. i'm more practical these days and i think for myself because at the end of the day it is my hunger that needs to be satisfied for the taste of an apple- not yours. everyone wants an apple at this time of the year, i know i'm not special, i don't need reminded again. but i have an awesome gift my grandpa taught me, one he shared with me that have no intention of ever sharing with anyone else. i know how to pick the sweetest apple off a fucking shelf.

silver cuffs

dear chain of debate diary,

while all this is going on i am doing nothing. where i used to post eighteen times a day, i post at best one or two or three a day and not because i have more exciting things i am doing, potentially it is because i am sleeping plenty and partly more at peace with the social issues connecting me with the social world.  i'm not letting the better of me get the enemy of the good anymore, and i'm staying out of bed with those who wish to fuck me. i like to think of this period as my light industry days.

841

a hungry, grouchy, bitch

dear paper plates of the future diary,

thank goodness the fate of mankind does not rest at the feet of the heroes amongst us, for we weak people would be fucked. seeing the wicked rise will make the poor man stumble as he runs. nothing interests me more than watching the blunders of the the righteous, for there are plenty. if the unibomber blew ADM up today, would i still have time to get breakfast at mcdonalds? see, i cant write that. the FBI will be serving me my breakfast in a secure compound. i know nothing. i really don't. i ask many questions to which i get no answers. i need to get a thick roast at the meat market. in the mood for french onion soup again is where i'm finding myself today and with only one single pound of the good sausage left, i'll prolly make biscuits and gravy in the near future.

the party girl

dear warm and inviting diary,

cheese and crackers anyone? i got the most delicious cheeseball yesterday and i cant keep my paws off of it. my mind has been drifting all day today, lost in an open jungle. when i catch it wandering i bring it back promptly, but it leaves again before i can stop it. the taste of the air reminds me to stay off of the streets i used to go down so much, roller coaster, bling bling, but these days i don't even crack the window for air and that's weird when i would live for some stink from the twink.

the egyptian trail

dear misadventure diary,

when you fart and your ass cheeks flap together and make a noise heard across a parking lot and you're proud, i'm leaving quicker than before i heard that shit cuz i don't want to smell it. i don't have much else to say about my safe day except, the chinese food was good, the new bras fit great and i like my new socks. i getta sleep in half a day tomorrow and then i have to get my ass up and down the road again. 

clocking in on cuntface

dear beginning to wonder diary,

accepting the fact that an apology will prolly never come, well, i did that a long time ago, (excuse me a moment while i clear my throat,) but i still believe i did everyone a favor- a few different times. even the time i brought my kid and his friends to champaign to the hotel to swim at the pool during the fire convention, there could be no 'alone' time with kids. that's what you were so worried about, had to run and protect yourself against that, (excuse me again while i clear my throat,) i get a kick out of this part. and here we are, a few more miles on the car and another year has passed on the time clock, my family has had a very blessed year and for this i can be the bigger person and thank YOU from the bottom of my heart.

bacon bits

dear no termoil diary,

i'll tell you what, an imminent need for homemade potato soup is what i'm talking about. when i lay here in my bed sometimes and the wind blows through my window, the breeze will catch the tips of my hair and play a trick on me. i let it because it's fun to see how far it will go, which never is very far, but it's kinda fun to pretend it's springtime again. it will be soon enough you know, springtime again, and another summer in my bed. i'm looking forward to that again, honestly i am, because i'll have a baby in here to play with then.

that face

stamp of the tramp

dear hand ramp diary,

i don't know why anyone would want a permanent hand stamp on their wrist. i know i wouldn't. i get my wrist stamped with ink a couple of times a week and i feel stupid. i can tell you, perception in 99% of the law. it just sucks because, things ain't always how they seem. i think the first things people want are the skin markers. if you have the tattoos on your wrists or neck, those are the signs they look for and it'll all get pinned on you. it's weird though, i don't have any tattoos- yet every body blames everything on me- or tries to. i can do a little bit of everything, but here's the deal people, i cant do everything ALL AT ONCE. you might wanna make sure you have the right WHORE before you even START with the questions next time. that's  just a rubber ink stamp on the back of my hand.

the coma period

dear punctuation diary comma

sometimes i get in a hurry when i am posting and forget to use periods and shit and thank goodness i cant get pregnant when i miss them on paper because i'd have a brown encyclopedia by now if i did period so spelling the punctuation out comma seems to be a good alternative period altho it looks retarded comma i am sure it will read even worse period but comma it is hard to continue to write comma almost like a telegraph period it has come to my attention that i have been granted an extended period of time to take a nap again comma which i am so happy to take full advantage of comma so i will ttyl when i wake up after my coma period

taxes and bag fees included

dear take the time diary,

if you want to let me know, don't just be a bitch about it. sometimes when a plane passes over my house i imagine myself in a seat on that plane looking out the window. i wonder can i see my roof? i imagine myself on that plane imagining myself in a bed under the roof i'm looking at- prolly sleeping or writing a blog about a plane passing over my house waking me up. then i think about the flight attendant bringing me a pop, but it is hot so i don't open it, i put it in my purse for later. then i think about how my airfare now cost $558 instead of $560 because i'm now subtracting the cost of the pop from my flight. i'm thinking it is a beautiful day for a flight, but i'm glad i'm not at the airport. i think i will take a nap.

cellular grandpa

dear factory recall diary,

fortunately, i was smaller and didn't understand what it meant when they came and took my best friend's grandpa to the clanker in the flashing police car. i knew every one was crying, but i didn't know why really, grandpa was never home that much anyway when i was over there and when he was, grandpa was a crabby fella who picked his nose too much and farted in the plastic chair and looked around to see who heard him do it. i always heard him. i knew he didn't like me. he told me as much once when we got home from the flea market. "you're a funny fuckin' kid ain't cha?" my best friend's grandpa said to me and a lump came up in my throat that hasn't left to this day. i thought about killing that old man. he's the only human being i ever did ever think of killing with my bare hands, but as a kid, i never got the chance. i got really preoccupied soon after that and i still to this day dunno why the old man went to jail. i'll have to ask jenny next time i speak with her.

the dust between my legs

dear dustbuster diary,

i'm kind of tired sleeping in a bed full of dirt, but not tired enough to do anything about it, so i'll complain about it here and not say a word elsewhere. i just kinda flick the dirt over to the other side of the bed and roll my face to the cleaner less dirt having side and hope for the best. i use to change my sheets every day, but i don't do that anymore. i figure the dirt my bed gets to see these days is the cleanest dirt there is and i'm not ashamed of this kind of dirt, so i sleep in it. the mud protects me anyway, i figure, from the slime. if ida had mud in my bed all that time before, who knows how much slime i could have kept off of me- back then. but no, i had to change my sheets and try to impress somebody who couldn't leave their own impression.

only one kid is special (but i had to do them both right or that would have been just wrong)

dear on the run diary,

i remember when my kids were little- it felt like i never got to sit down. i chased tirelessly after them at all hours of the day and night and never complained about anything. i took pictures of their onsies i'd hang across the clothes line because they spoke to me. i wanted my boys to see how much i loved them. it was worth all the extra stupid shit i did just to know my boys had that little tiny bit extra that made their childhood a little bit better some how than the kids next door. my infants drank from sterile glass bottles, practically unheard of in the early 90's. my infants never used plastic bottles and i didn't really know why, i just thought it was 'tacky.' ima order new glass bottles for the baby.

lunch with a felon and a fag

dear asking questions that have no answers diary,

usually when people ask a question, they search for answers. i quit doing that several months ago because the answers started attacking me while i wasn't looking and low and behold the quest for questions ceased and i'll tell you something after that- i started sleeping a hell of allot better all day. but frankly i never had a hard time sleeping in the first place. i love my slumber and i gave up hours of it for a while trying to be something i wasn't and i think that is what i'm pissed off about the most. really. i got nothing in return but headaches, and more of a criminal record, and i gotta live with the fact that i had sex with a true real life fag, but missing out on the dreams i'll never get to have again, that's what really makes me sad. there's no use in questioning myself for answers anymore. those days have long passed. i should have stabbed that fat fucker in the belly that day, eating kentucky fried chicken in the cemetery grass.

oooooh mandy

dear mandy manilow diary,

mandy was marty's mom. i believe shedda been 28 years old today. mandy came with the unibomber and used to run off every time she could. she was such a beautiful loving dog, she really was, but the unibomber would never get her fixed and so whenever mandy would go in heat, 64 days later we always had a litter of pups to deal with. i always felt so bad for mandy when she'd have the puppies too, she couldn't have one or two, she'd have sixteen. i think that mandy was finally the happiest when the unibomber's mom took mandy away from us and let her live out the rest of her live in peace and quiet and finally she stopped giving birth and got to be the old mean pit bull she always wanted to be.

the blue bath house

dear up above the world so high diary,

thumbs up? needing a ride? don't even call me. mine eyes have seen the glory of the up and coming sun. with the current state of the economy, i no longer give free rides. while it has been a true joy serving my community, painting the old red barn blue will always turn out quite the eyesore and i would never recommend it. tradition is where i find my comfort. i would rather fall forward than back.

on the fringe

dear historic diary,

if history repeats itself, then i have no idea what happens later on today. that sounds reasonable. here we are again at the three o'clock hour and i am wide awake. heavy on my mind seem to be those times before i could go along with my day and night when i didn't worry so much about hose who had bigger worries and woes than i. but now that i am here and i begin to address their obvious fears it becomes important for me to remain sincere.  

the GRAVITIZER ultimate ASS stain remover

dear crowds over a lifeless body diary,

the ultimate conclusion that orbits around in the solar system is a near miss for what actually goes on down on the surface, we just have the collisions down here. we run in to one another; facial collisions. we bump into those we know; body bumps. we think about people; telepathic mind smashes. we are a crowded concentration of organized people who often have two or more hundred opposing philosophies regarding thousands of varying topics at any given time. people seem to be so sensitive too, and that can make matters even worse. like, i'm so not going to get upset when the "shit comes out in the wash," and i wasn't even doing laundry yet.

a bilogical need

dear solid icy nuclei diary,

if you don't have cubes in your freezer, i really don't have a use for you. ice is an important staple in my kitchen and in my life. i couldn't go a day without a cube. being spoiled with an automatic dishwasher and ice cube maker are prolly the two biggest conveniences i've grown the most accustomed to. don't misunderstand my love for the clothes washer and dryer, my love for those run so deep, but the automatic dishwasher and ice cube maker are two things you just take for granted until five seconds without one and then you will really feel the sting. i've always wanted a garbage disposal, but i don't trust myself to have one. i guess with two dogs and a garbage can- i really don't need a garbage disposal anyway.

two months ago (i burned that nasty roast)

dear grab a sandwich diary,

i decided to go ahead and cook that big roast. i put it in the oven after i salt encrusted it and when i woke up after i accidentally fell asleep, the whole house is thick with the smell of intense burnt beef. how does a roast burn on an oven temperature of 275 degrees? i don't know, but i now know under a salt hat it's now my guess things must get hotter. fortunately, i don't have to cook like this again for quite some time, if ever.