HEAD THROBBING WITH ANXIETY…HEART BROKEN…
…only one thing to do…hold on, Dude, I gotta get an opener and some rolling papers…I mean everyone deals with adverse situations in their own way…mine is to disappear into the ether with a fatty and a six-pack or onto these pages, or, as now, both…
…like as long as I am here in these pages, sometimes even wallowing in the mud and thrashing around with matters tattooed indelibly in my memory, I am not having to deal with a real-time throbbing head and a present tense broken heart, well, sort of don’t have to, it’s really just postponing the inevitable but so is living, is it not? Life is just a brief spell between nothing and nothing.
…and you know Man, when you talk lousy syntax and convoluted reasoning, Dude, I mean who loves ya, Baby? Does NFTD shine in both those deficiencies…lots of publications take great pride in their grammatically and politically correct missives, I don’t mine; it is what it is and while I’m tangentially roving away from whatever it was we were discussing - why, if pride is a sin, do people boast about being proud of such and such? Which is it…ahhh me, I have this nostalgie de la boue, this longing for the mud to either fling or hang out in, all one to me.
I SEE MACHO MAN @ HQ THE OTHER DAY…
…he steps down from a full size, pimped-out American pickup dressed militarily to the nines - faux camo sans insignia, ready to fight, looking to me for all the world like a brute in uniform out for a mugging when - surprise surprise, just as I’m about to avert mine eyes lest I rile the giant, he minces his way into the deli tip-toeing thru a friggin’ puddle the big sissy & I haffta laff…I s’pose you had be there…
MY CHEMICAL ALARM SYSTEM GOES OFF…
…clamoring for attention, clanging and honking and sirens and wailing jennies…I answer the call and quickly decap another stout & quench the fire down below, insofar as one is able to fight fire with fire…in the short-term it’ll be fine and we’re no longer doing long-term contracts.
WELL IT IS I REMEMBER MY YOUTH…
…and how quickly it did vanish, disappeared in a heartbeat except in memory and it too – memory – is rapidly failing…I need a new hard drive with the finest of microchips to upgrade my system, to delete unused sites, to enable JavaScript so I can continue driveling in print (as opposed to me drooling post-stroke from my strapped-in-a-Posey-chair attitude of repose) and I need to live a little longer…30 years is probably stretching it but even two would be a major help, time in which to dash off a few more NOTES and paint my magnum opus masterpiece…as much as cancer and lung disease are killing me it’s really The Mirror and The Fool In It what are doing me in Dude…it has ever been thus…who knew…
…only one thing to do…hold on, Dude, I gotta get an opener and some rolling papers…I mean everyone deals with adverse situations in their own way…mine is to disappear into the ether with a fatty and a six-pack or onto these pages, or, as now, both…
…like as long as I am here in these pages, sometimes even wallowing in the mud and thrashing around with matters tattooed indelibly in my memory, I am not having to deal with a real-time throbbing head and a present tense broken heart, well, sort of don’t have to, it’s really just postponing the inevitable but so is living, is it not? Life is just a brief spell between nothing and nothing.
…and you know Man, when you talk lousy syntax and convoluted reasoning, Dude, I mean who loves ya, Baby? Does NFTD shine in both those deficiencies…lots of publications take great pride in their grammatically and politically correct missives, I don’t mine; it is what it is and while I’m tangentially roving away from whatever it was we were discussing - why, if pride is a sin, do people boast about being proud of such and such? Which is it…ahhh me, I have this nostalgie de la boue, this longing for the mud to either fling or hang out in, all one to me.
I SEE MACHO MAN @ HQ THE OTHER DAY…
…he steps down from a full size, pimped-out American pickup dressed militarily to the nines - faux camo sans insignia, ready to fight, looking to me for all the world like a brute in uniform out for a mugging when - surprise surprise, just as I’m about to avert mine eyes lest I rile the giant, he minces his way into the deli tip-toeing thru a friggin’ puddle the big sissy & I haffta laff…I s’pose you had be there…
MY CHEMICAL ALARM SYSTEM GOES OFF…
…clamoring for attention, clanging and honking and sirens and wailing jennies…I answer the call and quickly decap another stout & quench the fire down below, insofar as one is able to fight fire with fire…in the short-term it’ll be fine and we’re no longer doing long-term contracts.
WELL IT IS I REMEMBER MY YOUTH…
…and how quickly it did vanish, disappeared in a heartbeat except in memory and it too – memory – is rapidly failing…I need a new hard drive with the finest of microchips to upgrade my system, to delete unused sites, to enable JavaScript so I can continue driveling in print (as opposed to me drooling post-stroke from my strapped-in-a-Posey-chair attitude of repose) and I need to live a little longer…30 years is probably stretching it but even two would be a major help, time in which to dash off a few more NOTES and paint my magnum opus masterpiece…as much as cancer and lung disease are killing me it’s really The Mirror and The Fool In It what are doing me in Dude…it has ever been thus…who knew…
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