Thursday, May 31, 2012

Never Cheat a Friend

is it better to truthfully forget
or to willfully ignore

I shoulda known better

I should have known that when I didn't hear from you on my birthday things weren't right. Sure, I've never been one to really put stock into my birthday (my stupid birthday); but others do, and others do as they want done to them..and so they will make it known. Receiving a call or even a text is just common courtesy.

My life always has a way of finding itself back to this certain situation; wherein girl and I break up, shortly thereafter my birthday pops up, and it's anybody's guess as to whether will she comment or not. Of course my birthday always falls first, and depending on her reaction will give clearance to mine. Some of my ex-girlfriends birthdays have even been so close as to fall just days after mine - always making for one, largely ignored week.

But whether you forgot or just didn't care (which are essentially the same thing) doesn't really matter at this point, the fact remains, the deed has been not done, and why are we fooling anyone, it's always the latter.

And with your birthday now rapidly approaching I feel a bit of tension in my decision making. I know what day it is, I can't play like I forgot - for forgetting is for the careless, the ones who whisper sour somethings..and I have never been one of bad taste. You'll know (just like I knew) when you don't receive that message from me, and you'll feel how I felt, but you'll also know I did it out of spite; and that's what doesn't settle for me right.

For once in my life I don't want to burn red with young maleficence influenced by some planetary motion...and that brings me to a rams head. I don't want to not contact you out of crossness, yet I don't want to contact you, period.

And the latter isn't because of absence of attention..well, wait..actually it is...I was trying to say my fading out wasn't a fuming rebuttal, that I wasn't doing this out pessimistic passion..but rather, because we, you, have made a clear distinction in the unavailability with each other, me.

It's not necessarily because I care less, rather, it's because you do.

"Giving up and letting go are not the same thing..i'm just having trouble sorting out the definitions right now..something something special...something..."

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


the angry post you thought it was about
was not actually who it was

all that and more, coming up next

For lack of beter words, apparently I got carried away last night...but I think it was for the better.

There's nothing like having your crazy ex-gf decide to randomly cut of all ties with you for the hundredth time and also seeing another ex-gf look absolutely amazing...standing next to her douchebag boyfriend she replaced you with. All the troubles I've been adding into my list this weekend. I'm going to go off on a limb and say the stalker ex-gf that I have been doing my community service with has been doing what she does best, reading up on every little thing I shit out online. no, I'm flattered, don't get me wrong..some of my favorite exes are crazed fans of mine...(thanks for all the hits girls) But, it looks as though, they couldn't handle what I had to say, naturally. So enjoy my dog, you anal loving slut.

You may think I'm angry from that last statement, nah, just getting in my last laugh..ahhh, ok..maybe not last laugh, I'll be referencing that dognapper from here til eternity...but eventually she'll have moved onto cats..

repetition...the other lady, with whom still holds a place in my heart, is doing her best to find her way out..whether this is intentional or not I'm not sure...but then again, she knows me better than most of my exes so she must realize that being incomunicado is not the way I work. so maybe all is lost there as well.

It's a sad day when someone who cant give up on anything gives up on you. Imagine the sea just suddenly stopping from crashing into and kissing the shore after time and time again being rejected...obviously, you're a beach and I'm waving goodbye.

The advice you gave is coming back to bite you..but maybe that's what you secretly wanted all along..whatever, it's whatever...and as much as i can't stop thinking about you, i guess i need to..and that's why I'm selling the pony, it only reminds me of you..she never really was mine to begin with, and neither were you.

But it's nice to know that, even though your ex-girlfriend is sexier than sliced bre-wait..sliced bread isn't sexy..that makes no sense at all..hmm, ok..ex-girlfriend is sexy, go. So ok, it's nice to know that she's obviously the bread-winner in that relationship...and that anyone you don't ask will tell you that you're, or me rather, is a lot more attractive than her replacement guy...but all my exes love to pick uglier men..there's an actual collage of these accepted rejects, and it ain't pretty.

but I guess that just proves that looks aren't everything, at least to my exes..glad I'll always be the 'pretty boy' in their lives..that their kids will question years down the road and ask, "he's hot, why didn't you stay with him?!" to which their stupid mother will have to say something along the lines of.."because I'm a dumb whore Talitha."

Alright, now I'm just getting a little high on myself....but I mean it's hard not to when I have 100% of the audience polled giving the number one answer as, well, listed above...

I may be getting carried away again, and I may just be rambling..which is a horrible attempt to cover my exploits from last night...I'm posting real thoughts that shouldn't necessarily be on the internet..posts in the back anyone?

I'm supposed to be posting worthwhile shit every three days...this has been 4 posts in 24 hours..that's not productive, that's messing with, well, i'm too drunk to come up with the intellectual wording of it all, but those farms that create headless chickens..whatever, all that jazz...I'm just producing stuff to say I did something I guess, fail.

So there you have update to a rant to an emotion that boiled over and burst through all the while still not coherent enough to know whether or not it was mother's day today or not..but that's a different story and we just met...

water anyone?

"I wished that you cared. I don't know if you ever really did and that's why i can't say "still."

Sunday, May 27, 2012

all i can say
there once was a girl
who loved me
but she don't anymore


you want this

here's your honest blog...

i even refrained long enough to do it in typcial jangus excuse me while i vent.....FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

this is fucking bullsiht. so much stupud shit...fuck...fuck you...are you serious?! this is what I am left for...i cannot make words....yes i'm all hapopy for you, but really?@ this is stupid..i mash my fingers onthe keyboard to get a response..yeah. him?2 you're joking right?q mother eff....i sit there and see two sides of the sprctrum..but who the fuck am i..i mean honestly...this is what you come up really are no better than anyone else in my fucking life....just toss you to the side with every other whore i've known..because some how you find someone better than me in that ugly tabernacle called your boyfriend..well, fuck all that..your face angers me bitch

i said it@!!!~

"did i fucking stutter?!"

You There..

are you..

A million things on my mind, and I can't type.

I'm not exactly sure how this should begin...i just spent the better part of half an hour talking to a picture...which, of course, only resulted in precipitation. But it's been three days, err rather four, so i must put something in here for you.

Who am i kidding...I honestly can't come up with anything at the moment...I'm obviously too drunk to say words...which is sad because i was on a roll earlier..I really can't formulate anything, and I was so stoked to post a post too..maybe a nap or something will do..I love the fact we have a 96 this week..i needed a break so much..i mean, it's already sunday@?

I'll just go and talk to you some more i guess..

"i wish i could forget you like you forgot that night....but it's not that simple for me"

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Blogger Life



Yes. My blog is hosted by google, the blog is written in blogger, bought out by google, and the email address that is attached to this blog is run by google. That being said, every now and then I will receive email notifications from google about my blog; mainly, when people are brought to my site because they google searched something.

I typically no longer give notic
e to these emails after seeing a disturbing trend in them. Apparently there are a lot more sick people out there in the world, and I was just made light of the situation. Most of the hits my blog gets are from people searching "kids in tighty whities" (this is sure to get me even more creepy hit results
Now immediately i know what you are thinking, there are two questions posed here, and I'll answer one. Why does my blog come up as a result for that creeptastic search? Well, it dates back to a post somewhere around 2004? It wasn't even a real post but one of those stupid online quizes I much so loved to post when I had nothing else to say...However, the real questions remains...why are people searching that stuff?! I feel dirty just for being in association with it.

However, all this leads me up to another story. This morning I awoke to the sound of my alarm on my phone going off. And as I do every morning, I dismiss the alarm, which opens the phone, and I see all my nightly notifications - texts, facebook, emails, etc. I use these notifications as a waking up method, checking and dismissing them, deleting, until they all go away..hopefully gaining some awareness in the process, making my rise a little more loose. This morning I was blessed with one of the google update emails about my blog. And in my fumbling process wherein i continue to miss the trash can button with my finger over and over I read more and more of the email. This weeks searches caught my idle eye.

It seems as though if one were to search "fucked his daughter in the ass" not only would my blog show up, but it would be the number 1 hit - of course I think for hilarity it should be number 2, but let's not get anal about it. Of course the post it references was back when I went to court for my dog, which is also an infamous post that still leaves a certain someone a little unsettled. Of course this is my morning delight and I share it with the world via my twitter. Naturally, one of followers is offended, which of course just so happens to be the person of which the post is about. This, as you can probably guess, starts a fight - if there's one constant in my life, it's that the things I say get me in is no different, even if they are new words speaking of old words.

my readers comment to my tweet stirred up my wit, as i responded with a sly monty hall proposition. You see, this reader wants that amazing post deleted, removed, erased from existence; and as all of you know by now, I am not one to just edit myself (unlike certain people who try and photochop their lives to fit whatever emotion is the current trend that day for them) So I suggest that I'd be more than willing blot out the blog post should one pass on the papillon. This does not go over well as you would imagine, and results in another chirping attack proclaiming the reader has paid me for the dog and is therefore theirs..true, but again, that was after the courts decreed proper ownership was mine..but you know what, I paid my dues to host that post, so I guess if she wants to buy that post as well she can too do.

I offered a compromise on a stance I typically don't move on, I thought I was being a good guy, but that's the problem with being real, people really don't like it. I post, and I don't correct - like i always say, this is a one time sit and rant style of blogging..i won't go back and edit things for my approval, and I sure as shit won't do it for yours. What I felt then was how I felt and it remains in the past..unless you try to kick up that dirt. Sure you can try and delete those comments, posts, pictures, and everything else that built your little world up at the drop of a hat because you lost your god damned mind..but it doesn't make it from ever existing...and though you try to block out those details and hide in the dark, the light of truth burns like a thousand eternal suns...but you are no Eloisa..

What has been seen cannot be unscene; what has been felt cannot be unpenned, what has been willed cannot be unquilled.

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot."

Sunday, May 20, 2012


the only thing that moves on time

why then, oh why can't I?!

You won't find me there or anywhere the bluebirds are. No, this place is reserved for the kinds likable to that of myself. A table for one, where what's on the menu isn't as important to the name on the menu.

I'd like to be honest as possible in these stories, I'd love to be able to go off on tangents...but I'm just afraid that the viewing public expands more than those who will text me later tonight or tomorrow. Some are accident, and are of no concern to me, no, it's those who with malice aforethought seek me out.

To say this is all some sort of a conspiracy would only signal the red flags. Certain questions like how did my boss get wind of, as he lovingly titled this, "blue thirty-five monkey butt fuck" Sigh, it's Tuesday, but you'd never know that.

I heard Our song this weekend. In fact, I have never heard that song played on the radio, or anywhere for that matter, ever lacks being in my playlist..but I heard it on more than one occasion, and in less than a 24 hour period.

The first time was in the evening last night. As, what I'd start to call a Saturday tradition of sorts, began, fueled by hunger and a desire to see, led us back again. I was riding shotgun not paying attention to much of anything, rambling about nothing with my driver - who can ever really recall these details anyways. The radio was on, but I don't ever remember it playing music up until that harrowing know how in the movies where a certain song suddenly comes on the radio, or gets louder, and it's only for that song or scene..this was one of those cinematragic moments.

The first beats of the song chimed loudly, louder than hollow conversation, filling the emptiness of the cars interior, tunneling into my ear canal quick with precision and onto my eardrum with percussion. I've never heard a song sting like this. My driver was unaware of the panic i was in, countered almost simultaneously with the tympanic punch with one of his own "look, here's your girl" he said jeeringly not realizing just how right he was with that double entrende. I sat in my paralysis not wanting to believe the song was ours..hoping it was a different song..a different singer...a different love.

I surfaced through my silence, only being able to come up with a 'no' which i repeated several more times. This caused confusion in my driver, who reaffirmed me that the singer was that of which we knew all along..and the song was ours..and so was our love.

My nightmare on this road didn't last much longer as we were, or I was rather, fortunate to be arriving at our destination. It was in those moments the car was being parked my mouth was set back in motion. Mumbles and rambles to myself, only safeguarded by the fact someone was with me, I wasn't sure I was talking to him or myself. Why was this the "first" time I've heard our song..never before you, never once after you, until tonight..tonight.

My luck didn't stop there, and it couldn't be stopped the next time. At our place of destination, upon entering the foyer we were met with smiling faces of remembrance that allowed me to recover. But it was later in the evening that song would play one more time. Once again those introduction notes deafening a large, noisy room- slicing through the crowd, finding its way to me, always. The horror continued, we thought we were safe, but monsters never die just once. There was no escaping from it this time.

It was then I decided to numb the awareness and alert my friend as to the impact or significance this moment was having unto me. Once he understood the startling truth a sympathetic stare was all he could render, and I can't expect much more from anyone else.

That was the second time, just twice hours apart, and it wouldn't be the last either. Not even half a day later, once again driving around in the car for a quick spin to the gym, we were confronted with that now infamous lead-in. And just like the first time, those wondrous inflections affected me all the same; still. Luckily by then my driver knew, and responded quickly, rotating the dial that controlled the output, landing on anything in the world other than that song. The break in beat snapped me out of my whirling coma and brought me back to reality before too much damage could be done.

Third time's a charm, they say...but I don't know what they are getting at, I mean, I'm still here.

"i love the riddles that you speak.. -yeah you do sometimes"

Thursday, May 17, 2012


i miss her

so much

and she'll never know

I watched a video she made for me but three months ago

i'll never know what happened
I'll never understand
and I'll never let go of it either

i keep thinking this is some horrible dream

and i'll wake up
and things will be alright
we'd just be further down the road

someone's phone kept having your text noise go off

it made me anxious
it made me mad
but mostly it left me miserable

sometimes i just want to call you and tell you i love you

but i can't
and so i won't
and i'll never be able to


here it is

i love you

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Things Aren't Yesterday


Really bad times...

It's late, but of course I'm awake - spent the better part of the day sleeping, yesterday as well. However, yesterday did comprise of the restaurant debacle, with ourselves being asked to leave...and that was the first time we got kicked out of a Hooters...

Since I slept the day away yet again, I'll be up for all hours tonight..and I don't fancy that idea whatsoever...especially not after what happened an hour ago.

Let me take you back to late last night: in an attempt to throw off any desire of calling or texting certain individuals that shall remain shoeless, I did what any person in a similar position would do, text other people. Well, the list of those who received a text wasn't long, in fact it comprised of just one individual - someone that I've been longing to talk to just as much as the other, last hearing from them at about the same time in fact.

I had put off contacting said individual for the past two weeks only due to the fact I hadn't heard back in over a month, despite my random trials of communication with her. And last night must have been that breaking point, consisting of an appropriate of length of time since my last feeble attempt and correct level of consumption.

Fast forward to this afternoon where, after scanning over my phone to see the damage I may have caused, found only one number texted, and still nothing in return. It was about the time I started cursing the situation when that little Lo replied back, "Well hello." "Well hello indeed" I replied with text characters that hid both my excitement and directness. Unfortunately those tones must have been sent as well as I got back "mhm" as a form of a response. I followed up with more than three letters of my own, asking if, should the time arise, we could have one of our infamous catch-up calls.

No response. I sit there and contemplate if the lack of response was meant to denote a "No" or an implied "Yes", either way I'm left at the same place to not comeback.

Later, much later in the day, after one of the many naps I was enchanted with, I began my nightly know, to get ready for bed. Lo and behold would you believe that while I was finishing up my shower I heard the sweet melody of my phone ringing, ringing that god awful 'hate ringtone' especially reserved for ex-girlfriends. It was her, naturally.

I called back moments later, and just like that we were talking, picking up the pieces like time never broke feels good to talk to her, it feels good to talk to someone who (I think) actually cares, it feels good to hear her voice. I don't know if it's the actual sound of her voice, or whether the tone and pitch throws me back to a comfortable place found a year ago; but whatever the affairs, hearing just the initial greeting brings a smile to my face. And as she tells me all about what's going on in her life, though I'm fully listening and following her stories, there's another sense that's taking over.

We go back and forth, everything is good, until...She asks me what makes me happy - "What is happiness to you David?" - of course I stay silent long enough for her to fill in with various things she still remembers that made me happy back then. After she feels fulfilled filling her list, she asks me again. I say, to be quite honest, and not in some lame fashion, you make me happy. She lets out the subtle aww which she quickly replaces with an apology...I am suddenly confused and ask her for just what reason is she saying sorry for - it doesn't make sense to me how a true statement, one that could even be taken as a compliment, could be misconstrued at that moment.

She reveals to me she is sheepish because she's no longer my girlfriend...she mistook my statement to mean something more than I had intended. I counter with obviously noting she's not my girlfriend, but I meant it in a sense that her being made me happy..having someone in my life like her made me happy..that she brings a smile to my heart. I didn't mean it in a wooful manner. I wasn't re-confessing my love for her. I was simply stating I enjoy her in my life, maybe wishing it was more frequent than the once a month hour phone call I get.

But maybe she was right all along, maybe she knew my intent without my ever being aware...because from that moment on, my heart was marching in a different step, with my head trying to join in.

The phone call ended shortly after that, but my thoughts waged on. The thought of sleep slipping quickly away as my head finishes second place in the race. And the well-being I came into the possession of thanks to buzz, has been substituted with a lonely, loving silence.

All the same, I miss that girl. A lot.

"she still doesn't know..does she?"

Friday, May 11, 2012

Killer in You

She's got her halo and wings
Hidden under his eyes
But she's an angel for show
She just can't stop telling lies
But it's too late for his love
Already caught in a trap
His angel's kiss was a joke
And she is not coming back

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now

Yeah she's got a criminal mind
He's got a reason to pray
His life is under the gun
He's got to hold every day

Now he just wants to wake up
Yeah, just to prove it's a dream
Cause she's an angel for show
But that remains to be seen

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now

Stupid on the streets of London
James Dean in the rain
Without her it's not the same
The same, the same, but it's alright

Because heaven sends and heaven takes
Crashing cars in his brain
Keep him tied up to a dream
And only she can set him free
And then he says to me

Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now
Again and again

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Unrewarding Profit

right is wrong,
wrong is to write

bottom line is i'll be left over.

I've been wanting to write lately..most of it is short quips, conversation pieces, thoughts, questions..nothing substantial..I never feel as if those are 'good enough' to be post-worthy, as if somehow the numerical value of words put forth onto the screen somehow directly relates to the self-worth of the post...tell that to Ulysses...

And most of those random bits are part of a larger conversation, ones I'd wish to have with you. Of course none of this at the present time is authorized to be said, so i have to bite my fingers on all this...and wait.

When the time does come, the results finally come back from the lab or wherever DNA is unionized; the flood gates will break, of this I promise you. And when those results come back and I am cleared of any ludicrous claims, justice rightfully being still won't change a thing.

Yet again I will have "won" another round, while losing what really mattered to me in the process. Sure it's a win on paper, but i still have to live with the rocks being thrown. Yeah, it's an epic battle that was won, but the war is already over...and the only thing i've won is to live another day, to see another stupid battle.

There's so many little lessons in this - "winning isn't everything" can come to mind..i never thought these situations were possible, I've never heard of such a possibility. I sue for my dog. I win in court. Don't get dog back. - I get accused of sexual assault. Tests come back negative. Girl still believes her fairytale. Frankly, my Win-Loss column is very confused.

The whole argument is just one big affirmation that I'm correct, but fuck you. Like a pre-season win..sure you won, but who honestly cares?! Like wining a game-show and coming home empty handed. If I'm not wining anything after I win, then for what is the purpose - I mean not to sound materialistic or anything, but if these are 'moral' victories; can it..the only lesson learned is that all this is taking it's toll on me.

and of course as my fingers hit the keys so do my lids close together. All night long I've just wanted sleep this off, i guess better late than never?

same goes for an apology.

"Well, it happens all the time. It's censored from our minds. You'll find out"

Sunday, May 06, 2012

The Weekend

some posts
are just nothing

and so you get this

I spent the weekend, heavily medicated and heavily under the bottle. I won't go into details of the matter, but let's just continue with "i'm here, and I'm alive" Sometime this week I finished reading Lolita, took a few days off before I read, and finished, God Hates Us All. The next book..not sure, Great Gatsby? Possibly.

I wrote some things yesterday, late last night, well after my, well ,everything, was wearing off..i'll have to go back and check it out, not that it posted, i just know there's got to be huge gaps in whatever i came up with..

I'm feeling....tired. I can't focus on the thoughts I had earlier, and not that it troubles me, it's just whatever. Maybe I'll get a good night's sleep...but more than likely I'll wake up somewhere around 4am having to piss and move over into my bed, where I'll hit the huge pillow I brought over to eleviate my foot and face plant into the bed itself, making me feel as if I am crashing helplessly into hopelessness.

That's all i Got from this weekend, I survived, ain't that good enough?

"I'd say that's the plan, but lord knows how well my plans actually go through.."

You Don't Need To Title This

the post i wanna make
is the post i cannot make

so screw it

All this combination of meds and alcohol is starting to take its grips on me, shit right now i see four red squiggly lines...crap. All i will say is, Sailor Jerry (SJ but not the real SJ) and whatever I'm taking do not mix..especially in the afternoon...was it even after noon.i don't think so...

Whatever..the unDEr PRESSure.....the paIn..the everything is weighing dOwn oN me and I'm starting to lash out. It's getting bad, at least today was.

I had been awake since 730, don't ask me for what, I just was. I needed to get my car to the shop so my radiator could be replaced - they opened at 8 so i started to get myself together hoping to be in and out..of course i get there 30 minutes after they open and some other motivated individual has beaten me to the punch. I wait in the lobby with my foot propped up in the opposing chair and start a new book.

Seven chapters and 80 pages later my car is ready, and it's about time because I'm starving. As i make my way back home I figure I better stop somewhere and grab a bit..of course all the meds i need to take with food are back at the house, so it looks like take out is my only option. Since today was cinco de mayo I figured I'd go with the festive flow and get some Taco Bell, that's being multi-cultural right? Get back to my place, dig in, pouring a little SJ into the Dr Pepper I got in my combo meal. I should feel better knowing I have medical personel on hand..

i stop caring. since i can't rely on fucking medical doctors to care about my condition, why should i. and since i don't care, i don't expect anyone else to either.

LAter I somehow find myself at the church down the road, the one i volunteer at, the mission. I hobble along, making conversation with those who spot me, despite my incognito disguise - sunglasses and crutches don't cover the eminence that is me I guess. I make my way from the sun into the dark and dimly lit temple..stumbling along the way to the end...

I kneeled down, slowly, bracing myself like one does going into a pool. Placing my crutches to my left my sunglasses fall back down upon my face, covering my eyes. i leave them there, little did i know that was the right thing to do. i shut my lids and have a conversation with,'s mumbled audibly, so one could overhear it if one were next to me, however, it's mumbles so i doubt anyone could really make it out. I try to ask for strength, for help, but i can't..i just can't. I'm conflicted with so many other things that it'd be selfish to ask for any bit of help, even on this.

I having a dying grandmother, that the doctors don't know what's wrong with her, who has endured a lot - she's beat off cancer once before - She's in the right trying to fight off death while i'm in the left with this..i can only ask that things go well for her. And I pray for my other family members, people in my life, and of course, her. As crazy as I'll be called, I still pray that she's doing ok..that's she's happy, or at least being able to deal with whatever fucked up craziness she's conjured in her head.

All this brings me to tears, which is about the time I thank the glasses for falling onto my face. I slowly compose myself, grab ahold of the crutches to my left and stand up. I hop on down the long aisle, hit by various rays of sunlight emitting through the upper windows, and procede outside.

I think about everyone, think about how i'm systematically pushing everyone out right now. I think about my "chubby" nurse who flocks with the same pigs. How I haven't heard from her in a month now..probably because of something I said, calling her out or what have you..I think about my CBad friend I upset the night prior, never apologizing for the words I said, only saying "ugh" when I found out i hurt her feelings.

I think about my know it all bitch ass 22 year old friend who is currently mad at me..because i called her out, or something along the lines. I hope she's ok as well, though by her lack of calling me I'm to bet that her world is a hot mess - I've realized that during her lapses in communication she goes off the deep end, not contacting me because, as she puts it "i'll judge" - or in other terms, call her out on her bullshit and try to give her real world advice that she obviously doesn't want to hear. I'm the one friend she knows she can count on for that, and most of the time people won't show up on your doorstep until they crash into the bedrock...there like the Catholic version of friends...trying to find repentance a little too late, for me at least.

i go back to the car and continue reading..the irony of reading a booked entitled "God Hates Us All" at the mission..i don't have much else to do with the day, and keeping me away from my home means keeping away from my means, so it works out for everyone. Eventually I sober up and drive home..I don't write this post until much much later, because would have been too much for anyone to read..and i doubt i would have posted it..

So there you have a fraction of the day's thoughts in a few lame words.

"Frankly my dear, I just don't give a damn"