I Wanted All Things To Seem To Make Some Sense

It makes sense that my father should pass away the same year as Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe that's ridiculous to you, but it makes perfect sense to me. In the last couple of years, when our relationship waned, we found that we had Mr. Vonnegut in common. And of course we should. One absolute thing I inherited from my father was his sense of humor. I'm pretty certain that I was born with it. One time, I was seven or so, my father generously agreed to play hairdresser with me. As I wet the comb and ran it over his head, I noticed a bald spot. In my humorless innocence, I drew in a breath and let out a low, extended: Ohhh... He laughed and laughed. It's stuff like that I miss. I don't fabricate memories and feelings. I strongly oppose that notion. But man-- some memories are just so vibrant.

Back to Kurt Vonnegut. There's a lot about Vonnegut that reminds me of my father, besides the fact that he was a fan. Dry humor. Liberal, inventive thinking. Historical references up the wazoo. Thoughtful, weary eyes and a cigarette in hand.

There are obvious differences that I won't begin to name. I'm not saying they were long-lost brothers. It's just that the similarities are significant. At least to me.

My father met Kurt Vonnegut once. At a post office in Manhattan. He saw Kurt walk inside. Shocked and excited, he leaned to the security guard. "That's Kurt Vonnegut!" He got no more than a shrug from the guard. My father then approached the master of prose. "You're Kurt Vonnegut(?)" Kurt, I suppose retrieving mail or sending a letter, looked up. "Yes... I am." My father caught up with him at the door. What is it you say to a literary genius ready to flee down the street and out of your tangible existence forever? Certainly you want to say more than a five second: you're a swell writer. My father asked excitedly, "May I walk with you a while?" Kurt turned to face my father. "I'd prefer not."

Hah! Now-- to those of you who've never read a Vonnegut piece, you're probably thinking what an asshole he was. But if you're aware of his tone, the line is absolutely priceless.

My father and I laughed without breath when he told me of this brief rendezvous. I wonder if the tale is left only to me...

My father didn't have a will; didn't have many possessions to begin with. But I'll keep this one. And when a friend finishes his first Vonnegut and calls to tell me (this actually happens quite a lot,) or when I'm reading Welcome to the Monkey House to my children at bedtime (don't worry, I'll wait till they're four,) I'll pass this story along.

It's not much, but it's mine.

In times of silence on either end of the line, we could revert to Vonnegut. I know my father was impressed with the fact that this writer is one of my favorites. And I really like that.

I could go into how they left before their time and say all that pitiful crap that I'm suppose to say. But I'm not going to do that. I'm just thankful for the things my father involuntarily gave to me; elated at the prose Vonnegut voluntarily shoved at me.

I'm just happy that it happened at all.

Won't You Give a (Bug) a Home?

What's the point of being a bug? I knoooow that there is a purpose for bugs and all earthly creatures. But what is the point of being a bug? They don't have brains. They don't have feelings. So, that means they don't have thoughts and opinions and theories and love and disgust. They don't even know they're gross. They just float around and attract to my front door light and then they float somewhere else and then their life is over.

Fucking silly, if you ask me.


Yours Drunkly,
keeley

For Grandma...

In Rough Times:
You hold the hands of those around you;
Lean on the shoulders of those that surround you;
Speak out feelings to friends that have found you.

You hold your head up and hope for the light,
And for some strange reason, there are feelings you fight.

And when silence seeps into porous days,
You raise your head and look both ways.
And when there is no one, nor nothing in view,
You weep with a cry that is sold and true.

It's a tune that is stronger than any could be.
It's a song of hurt that you're meant to set free.
And when the last notes drip from your eyes,
You begin to sing life's hopeful reprise.

Dream a Little Dream

I just can't seem to get enough sleep. It doesn't matter if I sleep for 5 hours, or 12-- I'm just completely beat. And regardless of whether I'm asleep or awake, I'm constantly dreaming dreams of how my life should be. Not how my life was, or how it will be in the future... but how it's supposed to be now. That's so fucking sad. I'm happy in many respects. But there's a part of me stuck in a dream, because that's the only place I feel appropriate.

She Cried in the Kitchen / To Let You Go

And here it is. Another good friend off to the west coast. I've got all sorts of respect for possibilities and exploration, but that doesn't mean I want all my friends to pick up and leave. I know I'm not losing these guys, it just means they're harder to reach. But it does mean that I can't take a drive and hang out with them. And.... I don't want to make new friends!! Ugh. That sounds so ugly. But it's true. I'm not close-minded to meeting new people, it's just that I love my friends so much and I already know that no one is going to come into my life who is half as good to me as they already are. That goes for all of my friends, not only the ones out on the left side. Every one of them lends something so unique to the person that I am. I feel like everyone I meet from now on will just be decoration. Ornaments are pretty and all, but it's the foundation that really counts.

Dreams Are Bad / When All They Do is Leave the Truth Behind

So I have been having the craziest, most disturbing dreams about murder, and infidelity, and disappointment, and people who have passed away. Perhaps I spend so much of my time awake trying to be optimistic, that all the negativity is seeping into my subconscious. Hippie jargon. I know. It's really hard to snap out of it. I wake up pissed off, or scared, or angry with myself. But these feelings have to work themselves out somehow. And if that's the case, then I guess the best place would be in my dreams.

When I Wake Up in the Morning Time / I / Like to See You Sleeping by My Side

I've really had the greatest week. Despite the awful familial matters, of course. 311 and Matisyahu were so sick on Wednesday. And the ride down, just singing and laughing; the anticipation of the show and the night in Atlantic City... it was just all so positive. The shade took care of us as we tail-gated with some cold beers. Even though I was the only one dancing like a fool to Matisyahu, it felt really fucking good to move my body to some reggaerock. 311 played an amazing set. They always do, but they were especially tight, and pnc's sound is so on. AC was a little rough since we got there at 1am, but hey-- we're troopers. I only lost $3 at the slots and that 4am chicken sandwich was the most satisfying thing ever. Ocean City was such a neat little town, I didn't want to leave as soon as we got there. (Yes, I just said 'neat.') The beach was gorgeous, the water was warm (for me), and the waves were rough. But my outdoor shower takes the cake. And then Silverchair on Friday.... jeeeeze ...... I haven't felt that way at a show since the first time I saw Incubus. I wanted to take off my pants. But Jill didn't think that was a good idea. And even though work was long and boring on Saturday, I went to a birthday party and was up till all hours with friends I hadn't seen in a while. And when I woke up in the morning, I was in the best place I could possibly think of.

I had been waiting for this week for months. Even through everything that has been going on, I decided that I was going to splurge on positivity and actually enjoy myself, rather than just talk about how one day things will get better. I felt guilty. I really did. And I feel guilty now. But I can't let myself. The pain of others is upsetting, but you can't let it debilitate you. That probably sounds selfish to you, but if it gets me to feel hopeful, then fuck it.

She tripped on a hole / That I'd dug in the soil / To be part of a human garden

I'm still waiting for the summer to begin. And I'm aware of the fact that it's close to the end of July, but still, nothing seems real to me. I think I'm still stuck in May; still stuck in a month that was (mostly) good to me. It doesn't help much to work in a hole with no fucking windows. And I keep reading the most terrifying, depressing literature, which, I'm sure, doesn't help either. I'm not sad, I'm trying to keep a positive light... I'm just so fucking confused. And not the good kind of lost that will teach me a valuable life lesson..... at least, it doesn't feel like it. I'm not learning anything. I'm just going through the motions. I'm not even inspired. After the month of tremendous hell, I barely have anything poetic to show for it. All I've done is started several poems and half-heartily scribbled the beginnings of a dozen prose pieces. Nothing is finished. Nothing is complete. But I suppose that makes sense.

We Walked Wrapped in Thought

Do you know that really scary point about being young...? I mean, it's beautiful; an extraordinary mess, but it's quite frightening at the same time. It's that point in your life when you're feeling things for the first time... and not for the first time the second time around, like things mostly are now... but for the actual first time. Make any sense? Whereas twenty-one is sleeping in your bed with a new boyfriend, fourteen is the first time you've ever felt a boy 's body next to you in any bed. Well. I'm beginning to feel those initial emotions again. I have butterflies, which seem to be trying to break my stomach lining-- and they almost hurt. I'm not talking romantically... most people only think of butterflies in terms of romance...

I'm just acting so strangely-- and I keep apologizing for it-- but I know it's not my fault. But then who is to blame? And I need so much of what I don't have. But I've never been good at getting it. And I can't believe I'm feeling that sting for the 50th time around.

A Faulty Pen

I see you in my script.
And I believe I’ve made
My life’s first regret.

But you make it hard to put
The letters together
When there’s only ever ink.

Don’t you understand
That writer’s block
Is hereditary?

Just ten simple words
Are more than enough
To do what they should

Have done in the first place.

But I guess.
It’s nobody’s fault.
But the pen’s.

What's up New York.

Wow. What an amazing vacation. It felt so good to be in a place where virtually no one knew me. I realized when I got off the plane that I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could be a foot model from Denver, or a bean farmer from Hawaii. My name could be Gertrude, or Sherri, or Sasha, or Bob. But it wasn't. I was myself the whole entire time, and the more people I met, the more myself I was... the more "New York" I was. This trip just reconfirmed how much I love the city that never sleeps. I think it would be nice to move away for a while, but man........ I love New York.

blog.

So, I'm pretty much the worst blogger ever. My friend told me to set this up because it would be good networking.... and, of course, it's always good to write randomly. I thought I would be on this thing entirely too much, spewing too much of myself on the internet, but the last couple months, I can barely keep a consistent thought long enough to blog it out. I apologize to those who love me and put up with my bullshit, because I know this does not only apply to my blogging habits.

I was thinking the other day how friends might describe me to their friends. Well, because I'm a narcissist. And I think it's fascinating that the way I perceive myself isn't necessarily how I'm viewed by others. It makes me think of when I spent time with a friend of a friend who, at the end of the night, told me that I wasn't at all what she had expected. It seems our mutual cohort had told her to expect the worst from me; that I might judge her negatively and come out swinging. She's a lovely girl. And she thinks I'm lovely too. I wonder if my friend really sees me that way. And if he does, well, that absolutely horrifies and fascinates me. I consider myself to be occasionally abrasive, but I'm never irrational. I may contradict myself, but I'm never completely illogical. But I guess this is only my opinion against those that are suppose to know me better than I know myself.

how do you feel

how do you feel
she’s writing poems to another lover
you suffered through
and now she’s out the door
careless
fearless

Punctuation stops the heart of many stronger than myself

.

and where does it go from here

?

just one song circling
one verse
one course

but i never imagined it would be like this
convoluted melody.

and who are you now
wondering who she is
in her own life

she said she loved youwas it true

?

you’re idle in your new ways
contemplative in your old age

wondering who she is and how you’ve made her so

and is it a worse thought that she loved you
and no longer needs you
or that she never loved
with anything other than words

actions speak when spoken to
but a voice is out of turn

isn’t it always so?

and so it goes

AreYouLovingOrLeavingOrLyingOrDyingAway

I feel so absolutely guilty. But I have no idea why. I had a great weekend, and although it isn't even over yet, I feel like I'm missing something. Or missing out on something. So maybe that wasn't the complete truth. I guess there are a couple of reasons why I might feel apologetic. Although I shouldn't. I mean, how can you challenge something that doesn't have a definition? No, not what you think. It's so impossible. And I just keep thinking the same six thoughts over and over. I guess if I'm not careful, they might turn into a dozen.

One of the six: although I'm disappointed in so many people, there's always someone who surprises the shit out of me.

TooOldToJustBreakFreeAndRun(?)

I'm so confused about what I want. (Surprise.) Before I graduated from college I wanted to move just about anywhere that wasn't where I grew up. Nothing against it, I just figured I'd lived in Westchester, I'd lived in Albany... it was time to try something different. And then, after moving to my mom's new house and trying to adjust being 40 minutes away from my amazing friends, and an hour+ away from New York, I realized that I wanted to be closer to them; closer to my city, or at least in some sort of civilized proximity. But these last couple days, I just want to go. I just want to hop on a train with my luggage and completely detach myself from everything that I call my daily routine. Not the people....not entirely, anyway..... And I think: well, what about UChicago, or North Western? If I go for something solid (but temporary,) like school, it's easier to think about. What's exactly keeping me here? Would I hear any valid objections as to why I shouldn't go? Probably not. I think it would be a nice change.

One time a thing occurred to me...

...what if it's nothing like I pictured it all this time? What if I don't live in the few locations I've thought about planting myself? What if he's not there? And she's not there? And they're not there? What if I have a completely separate life than I have now? I mean, I know things aren't going to stay the same, as well they shouldn't... but what if my future is not a continuation of what I've begun to build? What if it's a completely separate life? What if we decide that a bean farm in Hawaii is the best option? What if my children don't grow up knowing my friends? What if I really can't have kids? What if she goes, and loves it there, and never wants to come back? What if I get suckered into a job I hate and a pension plan I yearn for? Tentativeness has never scared me before. It's always made me excited about life. But I suddenly have this pit in my stomach that tells me she really is leaving... and he's really not coming back. Or worse yet, what if nothing ever changes? I guess that's the bigger question.

Who Are You?

So who are you?... Taking off your clothes and posing for shots to put up on your myspace for an unmarked amount of people to see? Your bra strap is twisted and the lighting is horrible; these pictures are clearly unprofessional. So what did this photographer promise you? Is it possible he paid you for those shots..... or did you pay him?

So you want to be a talentless naked woman; famous for the ability to take off your clothes. Your goal in life is to be the first naked whore twelve-year-olds jack off to. And you're still looking for a man who respects you for who you are... What the hell is wrong with you?... Don't you have a mother....or, even more so, a grandmother who loves you and could possibly come across these photos?... Don't you have a little brother...or, even more so, an older brother who would be teased mercilessly when his friends catch wind?... Don't you have a boyfriend...or, even more so, an ex-boyfriend who would take one look at your titties hanging out on the internet and grin a wide, proud grin, because you proved him right... But most importantly. Don't you have any fucking self respect? Take naked pictures. Great. Fine. They're fun, they're sexy, they make you feel good about yourself. But when you post them for all to see, that proves you to be a narcissistic attention whore, with no respect for your body, your self, or the people who love you.... and it only gives fuel for those who love to hate. God you make me sick.

Say 'Cheese'

What's going to make you smile today? Is there anything at all, convincingly real? Something other than a television show, that lets you laugh with people who don't exist... Something other than a memory of your own life. That feeling is real... but not in the immediate way it should be. I wish I could make you smile today. I wish you would respond to me, and we would laugh, and make a memory for a day like this in the future. I suppose that you don't miss me like I miss you. I don't guess there's anything I can do about that. And if you're content with smiling on your own, then I'm happy at least one of us is.

#4

Well... the Rolling Stone entry form was all sorts of fucked up, so I didn't get my entry for this week in. But I wrote it, so I might as well share. Tell me this wouldn't be the sickest concert:

Picture Randall’s Island, located in the East River, outside of Manhattan, New York, filled with music lovers of all ages. Welcoming the Summer Solstice, the fans are gathered with tents, coolers and sunscreen for three days of music. The first day includes Bedouin Soundclash, Rx Bandits and 311. Incubus closes the first night. The second day includes Action Action, Long Beach Short Bus and Queens of the Stone Age. Audioslave closes the second night. The final day starts off with Gruvis Malt, Kings of Leon and The Raconteurs. The Red Hot Chili Peppers end the show, but not before all of the bands that can fit up there on stage start banging away to The Beatles’ “Hey Jude.”

Awesome as it stands, this isn’t any old straightforward Rock n’ Roll show. The fans and bands are gathered for The Tribute among Friends, a three-day festival promoting unity and harmony through music. The artists don’t only talk the talk… they also sing the song.

At Tribute, the band onstage pays respect to other bands playing the festival. How does this happen? When Incubus takes the stage, they don’t only play their hits such as “Wish You Were Here” and “Pardon Me.” They play Audioslave’s “Like a Stone,” 311’s “Beautiful Disaster” and The Chili Pepper’s “Blood Sugar Sex Magik.” Audioslave plays Incubus’ “Make Yourself” and QOTSA’s “Do It Again.” And it just might happen that when The Chili Peppers are covering Audioslave’s “Cochise,” Tom Morello jumps out on stage to tear up the guitar solo. So it goes: Rock n’ Roll idols paying Tribute to their contemporaries. Unity in its most rockin’ form.

Consequence.

Holding me close with your consequence.
Letting go with a new pretense.
Finding solace without sense.
I am your only (vapid) defense.

Trapped in a room that is round and secure.
Gliding in circles with me in the core.
Stopped in your tracks when you find me no more.
Where will you run at the end of the war?

Lost and unveiled; confused and derailed—
Set up for success to realize you’ve failed.
Lost and confused; wasted and used—
And now you refuse a new path to choose.

Idly focused on none but the past.
Faintly aghast that the cycle won’t last.
What will you do without me in your grasp?
Feel me just once, for you’re falling quite fast.

Who is to blame for this decadent swirl:
The cold-hearted boy or the weak-minded girl?
Is it a fault that their past must unfurl
Into two separate lives, in two disparate worlds?

Speak nothing of love and know nothing of fate.
Dependence and apathy surely negate.
At one point or another the other won’t wait,
And the other, the lover, will all but relate.

#3

3rd RollingStone.com contest entry:

The idea is to write a 300-word review of a concert you went to after Jan.1.... since I haven't been to a concert in the last month (geeze, how sad!,) this is what I chose to do....


The space is small: four squeaky doors lead into a smoky gray interior. The windows are foggy. Expired air fresheners hang from the mirror. The sound coming from old speakers is muffled and the treble is up too high. But still, the audience is excited.

The crowd consists of two twenty-something females, who sit in the front seats of a 2000 Ford Focus. Their bodies are uninhibited, even without the first cocktail of the evening. Matisyahu always gets their heads bobbing, their shoulders shaking and their hips humping. That sure is pretty impressive, considering the fact that the twenty-seven year old Hasidic rapper isn’t even present. But for this audience, he doesn’t have to be.

Matisyahu’s 2005 release, “Live at Stubb’s” is an inspiring medley of reggae-rock fusion that defies you to stand still… even if you’re listening to the album in your car.

From the first track, Matisyahu skillfully delivers an unconventional spirituality, with “Sea to Sea.” Even with Josh Werner’s funky bass, a steady reggae beat from Jonah David, and a light, uplifting riff coming from the guitar of Aaron Dugan, the focus still remains on Matisyahu, who croons, “Open up my lips and my mouth shall declare your praise.” Even with an audience who doesn’t share his religious beliefs, his inspiration is clear; his intention respected.

The audience is worn out by the fifth track, but they keep dancing along to “King Without A Crown,” an obvious favorite, from the way they react to the intro. His “Beat Box” silences the crowd, except for the occasional “holy shit…did you hear that?!”

The audience has kept moving for close to an hour when the CD shuts off. When you have no money in your pocket, (or your bank account,) the next best thing is a live show in your car.

'Well I was crazy about you then / And now the craziest thing of all.....'

I am so in love today. I had to sit in a parking lot and write down this feeling, because I always want to remember it. A song came on the radio, and it was a song playing somewhere, early in our days, when I was first realizing that I loved you. I remember thinking then that this song would always remind me of how your lips taste. It's a lame song, and I wouldn't like it otherwise, but hearing it today makes me smile so purposefully. Eight years of emotions. I think about reasons you're better off without me, and reasons I'm better off without you. But they don't even begin to compare to the reasons that result in the fact: we're in this now. I mean, can you imagine your life without me? I've tried.. for effort's sake. And it's nothing I want anything to do with. We were too young when we met. You've said that once, and I agree. A lot happens during those early years. They were intense. For everyone, I think. It's really difficult to sustain feeling for anything at that time, let alone a person. But the feeling.. it hasn't gone away. And perhaps it has dissipated a bit from time to time, but it's always been there. After the initial excitement, the initial delusion, the initial confusion.. after all of that beautiful nonsense.. years and years after that initial kiss.. thinking of you still makes me smile like it's the first time.

RollingStone.com

Have you heard about the reality show Rolling Stone is hosting? Well, you can also play along online. http://www.rollingstone.com/imfromrollingstone They have a weekly contest with the last episode's assignment, open to others who want to give it a shot.

This week, the contestants are to devise 10 questions they'd ask any living band or artist. I had to go with Ms. Gwen Stefani, former singer of No Doubt.

1.Let's begin by talking about some of your lyrics over the years.

1995’s Tragic Kingdom has a song entitled “Different People.” The first verse explains:

“Things can be broken down / In this world of ours. / You don’t have to be a famous person / Just to make your mark."

Your 2004 solo debut, Love.Angel.Music.Baby has a song entitled “Hollaback Girl.” The breakdown exclaims:

“Let me hear you say this shit is bananas. / B-A-N-A-N-A-S. / This shit is bananas.”

How do you explain your blatant lyrical regression?

2.I consider No Doubt’s music part of the Alternative scene, although many would disagree and consider it Ska. What do you regard it as, and why?

3.Tell us about the move from the offbeat [Ska/Alternative] scene to center stage of the Pop world. Why such a drastic shift?

4.Songwriting in mind, with your solo career, you need not compromise your artistic inclination with other musicians. However, you don’t have Tom’s, or Tony’s, or Adrian’s brilliant minds to complement your own. Which method of songwriting is more complicated: solo or group? Which is more rewarding?

5.How do your former band mates react to your move into Pop-stardom?

6.When you were younger, you were a soul searcher. Now you present yourself as centered and pleased with your life. Between these two, which brings more artistic inspiration?

7.Have you really only ever wanted a “Simple Kind of Life?”

8.Hypothetical: Kingston (Stefani's son) grows up and wants to be a musician. He is God-awful. How do you handle this?

9.If you were to have lunch with any one person, living or dead, who would it be and what would you talk about?

10."If [you] had a chance to go back now, would [you] redeem [your] moral vows, or would [you] repeat for [your] own laughter?" ("Sometimes" from No Doubt)


I don't expect to win... there were over 500 entries last week... but it's a hell of a lot of fun to play! Check it out!

marching to the beat of a...

Have you ever heard someone else's account of your current life? It's such a crazy thing. Today, I was sitting near by when my grandma called my other grandmother. She reported the usual stuff, I suppose, and when she got to the topic of me, I heard all this news for the first time. I mean, I know I'm working a job that I don't love, for the sake of financial survival. But when I heard her say that, I got defensive. I don't know if I would have said it any differently, but I wanted to dispute it, coming from her.

I guess I have a complex about how fast my life is progressing. I graduated from college last May. I'm living at my mom's. I have three jobs: one mindless and moderately amusing, one morally fulfilling, and one creative and challenging. I'm honestly doing more than I thought I would be doing at this point. Grad school was always out of the immediate question. I knew that I wouldn't have my own place this soon. I have all of my debt in order. So what's my problem?

I guess I get a little anxious. I try not to compare myself to my friends, but sometimes it's unavoidable. I get nervous when I see friends who have been out of college for a while and still don't have a direction, and I get nervous when I see friends who are just out of school and are already on their way towards a career. I know everyone goes that their own pace. But I suppose I just feel my stride slowing, and it creeps me out a bit.

I'm on a Plane

It’s a very odd feeling when somebody leaves you behind. It can happen in so many different ways that I couldn’t possibly touch on half of them with the energy I have tonight. But when you realize that the plans you had with someone are no longer accessible, it leaves a stale taste in your mouth and an absolute confused distortion on your face. Lip curled up. Brow turned down.

You couldn’t possibly blame them for living their own life. Hell, you’ve done this to others in the past. You feel guilty for keeping silent on the other end; Feel guilty because you don’t want them to feel guilt. But you know they do. And you think they should, maybe just a little. Not like it was a promise. But it was promising plan. And although you’ve known for some time that it’s not going to work out the way you once thought it might, it still hurts to hear it out loud.

And just because your friend is on a completely different plane, you have to sit their and silently analyze your own unleveled ground.

And you see so many people wanting to be on that same plane as your friend. And you think there’s something wrong with you for not wanting to be. You know that life is short. Others know that too. But they live it out a completely different way than you do. They think about it in different terms. You’re twenty-two. You feel so damn young to be hearing those words come out of your friend’s mouth. What’s the worst is that you didn’t think it would come so soon… didn’t think that so many people would want these things so soon… didn’t think that you weren’t going to be one of them.

It’s such an odd feeling when you realize you’re on a completely different plane than a friend you always thought would be at the same level as you. And you have to be okay with the fact that they are going to live their own life. But now… you just don’t know who you’re going to slip off the edge of the world with. It’s a bit daunting… a bit sad.

How Alarming

The best way to possibly wake up is without an alarm. That ease into consciousness is oh so refreshing. And it helps when you have the day off, and it's all sorts of raining, and you don't have to deal with any of it. It's best when you don't need coffee to start the day, but drink it to complement the morning...

So. I have a blog. So far I've copy and pasted a No Doubt song, and talked about alarm clocks and coffee. I swear there was a time I was much more interesting than this... right? I suppose not.

Well, how about this?: The other day, when it was 65 degrees and sunny in the middle of fucking January in New York, it got me thinking about the end of the world. Nice, right? Don't get me wrong, I love the summer more than any season, and I'm pleased about the winter beach weather... but it scares the hell out of me. I know ozone depletion takes time. But what if the time is up? Where will I be when the world ends? Based on my daily routine, chances are I will not be somewhere I want to be. So that's a kick in the ass. Just have to figure out in what direction my ass is being kicked.

Blog it Out, Bitch.

Though I know I don't have to explain. I think I'd like to.


"A Little Something Refreshing"- No Doubt

"Yeah yay ohI'm hungry yeahI said I'm starving yeahI want some Pizza Coke and ice cream popcorncotton candyMarshmallows milkshake and peanuts would beso greatPies chips candy apples Twinkies FrostedFlakes And donuts french fries and some chocolatecake with mustardCookies avocados pancakes pineapple juiceWhipped cream on some raw meatThat's not all I could...EatI'm hungryI want some food for my tumI want some honey roasted walnuts pepperonislicesPasta and burritos different kinds of ricesCherries dipped in chocolate cottage cheeseand jellyColonel Sander's chicken still won't fill mybellyBroccoli sticky syrup churros dipped in sauceDrippy sloppy joes then I'm full at lastOh oh oh oh oh oh I'm full at lastAnd I'm full at I'm really really full at And I'm full at lastI'm full at I'm really really full at I'm full at lastAnd I'm full at I'm really really full atI'm full at lastFull(BURP!)"

If you really got through that whole thing, I applaud you!
Welcome to my Blog.