Sunday Night Blues Part n1

Sunday nights are perfect studies in bittersweet. Happy I had all day to do nothing but sad the weekend is over and what awaits is another work week. Spent the entire day in a daze. Feeling kinda down right now. Not paralyzing down but just a leave me alone, I don't feel like talking kind of down. It's better that I'm writing this than simply trying to distract myself with online crap.

Other than the Sunday nightness, are there other reasons why I'm blue? PMS, more than likely. I"ll say yes to PMS because I can. HAHA! Oh, I'm also high so this is fun, watching the letters just pop on the screen. I can hear the AMAs in the background. What a disposable award show, it seemed like to me. Very now, plastic and non-personal. I am a snob so that critique is biased. Fergie looked good; not too tranny.

It's fun to write. To take random words and marry them to produce lyrical relationships.

He was always craving
Gnawing at him, intense
pit needing to be filled
Look not to food, love
or money for what he
needs is him.

Ha! Tried to be all poet and write something. Sounds like shite but it was fun, playing around, being all pompous and big deal writer. The old school big, deal writers. Writing, writing, writing. Would I have the dedication needed to write for a living? I love that I'm pretending to be doing that right at this second.



To hear the citizens of Jacksonville, Fl tell it, the humidity is all part of the Florida lifestyle.

Let me stop i'm just rambling, rambling being funnelled to my fingers. Finger Funnelled that's awesome. waht it isn't is awesom sauce. that makes me ill and yet i want touse it. but it's one of those that ou have to use at the appropraite tiem. oh my goodness i dont' know what i'm doing but i gues i should try to do soemthing else because my fingeres are going crazy. but its cool that they're doing this by themselve and i am not ebveing tryi;ng to do mjucvh. i lveo you kristeen debbie betty brable geena davis heather smith so fwildthatwo wild isn the mnmigtg
i love
the cat is at home
the cat is at home
the cat is ha homel
the cat is at home.\
the cat is at home.
the cat is that home.
the cat is at home.
the cat is at home.
the cat is mate aes;jg; ldsklfjds;lfjas;ldif;dlsjfisj tju4''WEJ G'EG

Daisy Goes Shopping

She'd saved her babysitting money all summer long. As she watched Mr.Piggy release a two tone rainbow of coins and dollar bills, a smile crept across her face. After 46 long days of caring for slobbering, dirty diaper-wearing Bobby, Daisy finally had enough to buy herself a pack of candy cigarettes. She finally would be able to be just like her mom, Morgana.

Morgana, you see, was a star in Daisy's eyes. The 7 inch platform heels, blue eyeshadow and Bedazzled bikinis were part of Morgana's celebrity wardrobe. It mattered not to Daisy that she only dressed like this at night before putting her to sleep. Daisy would dream of her mom's exotic adventures while slumbering and delight in her enchanting ways. When she awoke in the morning, she'd find her mom passed out in a litter of single dollar bills. Daisy never touched the money for she knew she didn't earn it.

On the fateful day, with her life savings in her pocket, Daisy strolled up to the JiffyMart and bought two packs of mint flavored Kamel Kids candy cigarettes. With bootie in hand, she happily skipped back home to show her mom her new prop.

Between the thumping of her head and the raging hangover nauseous feeling, Morgana didn't understand what her daughter was telling her. The sweet girl was but a blur of excited words and cigarettes?

"Mommy, need a smoke?" Daisy asked wide-eyed.

Fearing that her 7 year old daughter had started smoking, Morgana raised her hand ready to bitch slap her. She stopped herself in time when she saw the jovial Kamel Kids camel holding two thumbs up. Morgana took a deep breath and then let out the deepest laugh she'd had in a long time.

"Come on up here, sweetie pie, mommy can use a smoke", said Morgana between laughs.

Daisy moved the dirty clothes from the bed and sat down next to her mom. She pulled out two slender, candy cigarettes and gave one to her idol.

In a cloud of imaginary smoke and beer-stained sheets, mother and daughter made plans to shop for matching tattoos and they live happily ever after...well, actually until Child Protective Services came by.

Sunday Night Blues Part n

Feeling blah on a Sunday night. Wifey just got some way overdue nookie and is in the shower. I'm sulking on my usual spot on the worn blue sofa. Damn cats; they've scratched both arm rests. The frayed edges and exposed metal wires give it a touch of klass. A mixed stew of white and hispanic trash.

I sensed I was going down earlier today. Ironically, I've had a pretty damn good day. Spent a few hours to myself this morning while the wife slept. When I finally woke her up, we laughed and wrestled on the bed like the old days. We even got dressed and went for McD's breakfast. We bonded over It's Always Sunny... and I cooked yummy tacos for a late lunch.

I hate being depressed. What seem to have been the triggers today? Weed. Been in a cloud of smoke since 7am and as much as I know that that fog simply keeps the real problem veiled, I continue to light up. I'm smoking at a way higher rate than ever before. It's getting embarrasing at this point. But I'm not ready to give up.

Another trigger could have been music. Certain music does that; especially Time to Pretend by MGMT. I'm too old to identify with the fuck the man attitude. I'm 32 for crying out loud. I need to have a stable career and personal life already. What the fuck am I going to do when my term is up? I'm starting to get scared of the future.

What will it hold? What will I do? How can I overcome my faults and fears I've I'm not willing to do anything about it? Well, I did promise her that I'd write and look, I'm writing. Maybe I can write a short story to kill time and exercise some creativity.