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2004-10-03 - 11:36 p.m.

10-03-04 12:30 a.m. No Distance Left To Run

My humor is off-putting, my brain soggy and sloshy, my hands slugglishly brute-like. I live my life like a broken Tom Waits record, stuck in the grooves I become each grimy, haggard character over, and over, and over again. I would be considered a great pianist if every time I put my fingers on the keys they didn't fall off. My teeth are chipped and my belly now a gut from eating too much pavement.

There's an angry horse with wings and a stinger the size of a medieval truncheon taped to its ass banging into the burning, putrid neon bulbs in the garage and just a little off in the distance I can hear some fucking cheesy, old, "house party" music thumping its way to hell like some sad, fashion-calamity filled pair of 70s plaid golf pants.

If I close my eyes and look back into the farthest cavern in the back of my skull I can just barely make out the elfish fool of what's left of my innocence doing the most ridiculous jig around a pathetic, dying campfire. He's either too stupid to notice, or doesn't care that the records skipping and has to be flipped. I leave him be, but do turn my head in disgust as I stomp back topside and open my gravel dry eyes to once again view the sickly entrenched ass-fuck that is the world.

My cigarette spits and fizzles and I gag myself on the filter to draw one last hit of nicotine then grind it burning head face first into its soot and ash graveyard alongside of a dozen or more of its kin. I (see?)count every off-time cricket chirp, door slam, horn honk, fridge gurgle, plumbing stammer and pop of my shitty knees as I constantly shift to avoid their aching while I try to type this as life asking me the hardest, most painful question my soul knows to ask of it. And this whiny, grammatically-inept, long-winded, bullshit wanker prose that I just wrote and you just wasted five minutes of your life reading is the only reply I have right now to give it.

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9:06 a.m. Father To A Sister Of Thought

I was thinking last night as I struggled to get some sleep, (make that early this morning since it was about 4 a.m.), about the weights of things. I decided that alcoholism for me is equivalent to a cinderblock being strapped to my back. And how sweet it would be to have that weight taken off and removed from my life forever. I thought also though, that after 10 years of walking around with such a thing on your back, you would have to learn to live with it as I have for so many years. You'd have to adapt yourself to being crippled, slump shouldered, etc. Once that weight is removed, you could straighten up, rejoice, and walk upright but all of your habits and routines would have been formed by the weight. I guess what I'm saying is, I have to learn to live life sober even though I've been institutionalized by alcohol and have spent so many years in its prison that I don't know much about the world outside. I've known relatives and friends that have been in jail and after they were released they were nervous, scared and paranoid. That's pretty much how I feel most of the time.

10:47 p.m. Pour The Black Coffee Over The Evening Sun

My face is tingling from laughing so hard at a Chris Rock comedy special. Man, has it been so long since I've laughed that my face feels funny afterwards??

I had a good day. Yeah, it started off a bit shaky with the fact that I almost got into a car accident turning out of the development to go fetch Bryan for breakfast, but it went smooth after that. I took and installed that Seagate HD that I'm selling him and helped clean his comp up of garbage and got him all securitied up. You just simply cannot "surf" the web anymore especially if you're not on dial-up. Within a week or two your comps going to be choked on more spyware, adware, browser hijackers and you'll have saved 50 companies a lot of money in market research through cookies and data miners and you'll be getting spammed out of your cornhole. And those are just the norm and goes without mentioning the other nastier shit that can happen. Hey, I'm a dork and I enjoy tinkering and messing with computers and all it costs my friends for me to work on their comps is they have to listen to a bunch of my dork ramblings on what-does-what, etc. that they can't really follow and could prolly care less about.

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