George R. Stewart...

You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of porno-type things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. I like vegetables. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. How did Thanksgiving come so quickly? You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. I think I'm going out tomorrow. I have no idea what we're going to do. You arrive at work. I need to wrire REAL stuff. This is horrible crap. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. This is a hidden sentence. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. I think Renee Zellwegger looks like she got stung in the face by a bee. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. Poo. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. Pee. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. Still here? Be good. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

Self, Remember To Go To The Bank And To Return Your Library Books Tomorrow...

The only thing worse than bartending one night a week is to bartend two nights a week. I just got done watching Y Tu Mama Tambien and all I want to do right now is to sleep with your mom. Or write nonsense. Okay. I'll cross that off. Done.

And The Whole Time I Was Standing In My Cat's Throw-Up...



I was just on the phone with a friend and he told me that while cleaning out his closet, he found about 1200 dollars worth of silver given to him in his last marriage. Pirate booty, indeed.

Anyway, this is very supercoolawesome because that means that when the Werewolves come - I have a place to go for ammunition.

Now all I need is for another friend to call me up and to tell me that he found some smelting equipment and then we're all set for the coming Werewolf Apocalypse.

This Is The House That Jack Built...

This is the guy you voted for last week.

It Smells In Here...

Really. It does. Bad. It can't be me - can it?

My god. Something's wrong...

This isn't right.

Please smell me and tell me if it's me.

Truman Burbank...

I'd like to go to sleep for a year. One straight year - uninterrupted - comfortable - waking up fully refreshed. It'd be interesting to see what's changed, what hasn't, and to throw one big party. I could speculate right now on what I think might be different - but I won't because I'm tired and I'm going to sleep...

Oh, Show Me The Way To The Next Wonka Bar...



I feel a little guilty about how easy my voting experience was yesterday. The place was about a five minute walk from my house, it was a beautiful day, no lines. I worked a double, so tried to get out of my day shift as early as I could - I made it with enough time to doze while Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet drank wine with Oprah. I have a friend who's working on Charlie And The Chocolate Factory right now out in London, or wherever the hell she is. Why am I not there too? Oh. Because I'm wasting my life - but I DID vote for the first time in my life today - that's excellent. Really. It is. I DO feel very happy about it. Too bad the The Dumb Little Son will win. If he doesn't, I'm going to throw a party.

I also lost a crapload of money playing poker last night. Luck hates me. I have a stack of comic books to my right ready to be sold on EBAY. This won't save me. Only Satan can.

Goodbye.

Dia De Los Leche...

xxx

Going here in a couple of hours for a friend's Halloween party. My friend's old band, Longfellow is playing too. I will be drunk and dressed as a Slim Jim. Tomorrow night too. My girlfriend's going to help me out behind the bar, and I'm giving away bottles of wine for costume prizes.

Sounds good.

Bacchus would agree.

Salt And Pepa's Here...

They're filming a Christmas movie right across the street from my house. They've been there all week, it's going to be on ABC on Dec. 4th, I think - or that's what the flier that they gave me said, at least.

I will get discovered.

I am stripping down right now and am getting the lawn mower primed and ready to go.

My glistening chest will look all the more sexy in the current rainy weather.

Wish me luck.

Fat Free Milk...

I guess I’m going to have to give up real writing. It seems like all I can do now is this fake stuff or the off the top of my head or the kind of planned topical crappy crap. Even though I have somebody waiting on screenplays from me.

It sucks. I need to get back to writing in notebooks if I still have a chance.

It would be hard to make a fortune doing this type of crap. It’s a dime a dozen. Short stories might work considering that I find them easier to write than bigger projects but I generally don’t like reading short stories. I think, because short stories seem like a cheating investment. Usually by the time you’re involved, the story’s over – and that always sucks. It’s probably just me. You can’t knock Twain, King, Hem, Carver and others. Who IS best known for brilliant short stories? I’ll ask around sooner or later.

How did I get so fucking lazy? Not only in writing but also in my life? Didn’t I used to be a lot more motivated? Yes, I was younger – but maybe I was sicker, though. You tend to spin frantically when you’re sicker in the head. More comes out of you too when you’re not that balanced. I used to write major amounts and now I write practically nothing. What happened? Does this mean that I really wont ever write The Great American Novel? Does this mean that I better get a real job soon because I have nothing else going for me? I’ve tried to stop calling myself a writer because now I feel like I’m lying. I need to start hanging around creative people again. Maybe I’ll just call Joel out of the blue and write a play with him. That would be nice. He’s older too, and yes, I used to hang around creative, older people all of the time but they all moved away and got in horrible fights with each other in between their bouts of candle-lit, poetry-reading madness. They all ended up leaving each other, fucking each other, moving out of state or just getting plain old.

Yeah, maybe I will call Joel. I saw him tonight. He stopped by the bar when I was working tonight. He told me what books he was reading. I only have a couple friends who still talk to me about that – but they’re both insane. This guy writes for a good magazine and writes plays at the local theatre too. I might’ve mentioned that. He likes booze too. That’s always good. You better like booze if you like books. Just because. You just better.

Oh man. I’ve got this impending feeling of doom that’s been hanging over me lately. It’s making me nervous and paranoid. It’s making me scared. I don’t want to answer the phone or open mail. Does this mean that it’s all financially motivated then? I don’t look forward to the end of the year. All new parties or activities, trips, etc. piss me off because that just means that it’s another obligatory social event that will further prevent me from digging myself out of my hole.

What happened to walking? My car depresses me because I don’t take care of it. Weather isn’t the same either because of my car and it’s widow that doesn’t roll up.

Am I really depressed or am I just...what do they call it? What do they call it when you try to trade in a car but you end up owing more than it’s worth now or something like that? I’m kind of like that right now. In over my head in life and certain sense of value or worth had decreased.

Is it depreciation or my great depression?

Declination or a lack of direction?

Declension?

Disparity?

Da gooch beat me up Mr. Drummond.

I refuse to get up to tell the cat to be fucking quiet – but I will get up for a fucking cigarette because I feel like I really need one right now.

See? That’s what I need. I need to write with the quickness and ferocity of one that does right before getting up to go outside and smoke. Hummingbird fingertips. I think my brain is haunted. I don’t feel good right now. Sleep won’t do it. Nothing will. Nothing will, except sunlight coming over the horizon. Maybe Empire Strikes Back playing on the TV as I slowly and laboriously drift into my usual light and seldom interrupted sleep.

I need to do five responsible things tomorrow and five things that are good for me. Organizing comic books makes me feel good. I can walk to the bank. I came up with a new band name tonight thanks to Sarah Brown. I can open up the garage and pull out all of the old notebooks. Maybe not. I need to clean my room. I can start to paint pictures. I can make a bill list. I can sell comics on ebay. I can drink and write all day. I cannot turn on the computer. I can try not to turn on the TV or the computer. I can stop by every store in downtown. I can drink in every bar in downtown. I can play video games all day. I can search for jobs online. I can make something out of little pieces of junk and superglue. I can write a Christmas list. I can smoke and then will be back. I can.