When I get to the pearly gates
I hope God has a sense of humor.
I mean... he has to right?
Look at duck billed platypi
and Australians.
----------------------
My dog is whimpering and barking in her sleep.
I think she's dreaming about eating a cop.
I don't discourage that.
As for me, I'm... exhausted.
I wish I had something insightful to tell you people, I wish I could work on Icarus Rising proper, but sometimes you really shouldn't force things when every muscle creeks, and your brain is so... dry.
My ex is getting married to the man she cheated on me with.
My dog needs surgery.
My dad is changing careers at 55.
My mum is losing her mind and spiking her blood pressure.
My gramma is a demanding tyrannical invalid.
My extended family members are all loud snotty shits.
My best friend A doesn't make enough money and is having his first kid in a month.
My best friend B just got layed off and has immediately lost all remaining hope.
My brother is like the walking dead since he got layed off.
All my lesser friends are dead.
I have no hand to grasp in this.
I'm 23, slightly published, losing my mind,
running my lungs out chasing hope,
starting a slave's wage job,
yet somehow,
I know I'll win in the end.
I think mostly because I'll accept nothing less.
So...
who wants to date a poor philanthropic intellectual with severe PTSD?
I promise to try to be a good lover
a supportive listener
a good time,
and a good provider... in a minimalist sort of way.
I crack myself up sometimes.
In my defense, I'm tired.
can't I just get away with vacationing another 3 months, fuck the girl of my dreams, live happily ever after and phone in the rest?
...
I'm going to Denver the ninth. Meeting a bunch of douchey retards I don't want to know, nor will I remember. And I'll be sure to work myself to death for a job that doesn't actually pay
but does give me a "living allowance"
I'm pretty sick of having permission to eat.
Can I make my own fucking money yet?
buy my god damn boat and hurricane proof ranch off the coast of St. Thomas?
sipping mai thais on our fifth anniversary...
I promise to never wear shoes again
meet everyone on the island
and try not to spit on the tourists...
Love you.
I've heard you're fond enough of me to where you wouldn't push me in front of traffic...
unless I had a kickass insurance policy.
Anyway,
why "feast OF famine"?
Tis the season to give thanks and evaluate the harvest and the trials right?
...
We survived. Barely.
I'm not gonna say what I'm thankful for
but I am gonna say thanks
for the blisters on my soul
the callouses on my heart.
The tough meaty hide I had to grow from weathering this bullshit.
What?
No.
That's really it.
08 can suck it.
I'm excited about our new president, and I've got an umbrella for the next fallout of 8 1/2 years of blunders. Some of which were my own.
But I've got my dog, my giant hunting knife + umbrella, and a book or two of poetry.
I'll be fine.
