So Many Words Waiting Somewhere Else

Eventually, many will make it into this blog, in retrospect, perhaps, lost in the oblivion of an unexplored yesterday. Easy listening was never so contrary, but then, tonight is a night for the contrarians among us, even if it is two nights late, but then, what are weekends for, after all, la la la. Following along (understanding the babble) is always a bit like falling through the looking glass, so watch your step around the rabbit hole. Alice doesn't live here anymore and passing the hat never worked for the folk who don't give a flying fuck, so trust the live performances to destroy your memories after a while.

I visited Facebook. It's the same there. babbling influences, I am still not impressed.

What?

So I wrote this earlier and rather than rolling back into the previous day and ranting mode I was in for a brief few entries in other places (what meaningless complaints?... squirrel?... maybe), I fried up some egg whites and folded in some cream cheese and american cheese and bacon spices and feasted on a midnight snack, which brings me here with energy to spare and nobody to share it all with, in case it matters, in case you care.

And two chocolate protein shakes, 22 ounces of additional nutrition. Then eight prunes. Yes, I ate eight prunes. And just n case you are wondering just how far deep I wandered along the way down impulse alley, I spent $144 buying twelve new T-Shirts with clever sayings on them as if I needed twelve new T-Shirts. If I counted up all the clever T-Shirts I have in storage and here in this room, I could wear a different T-Shirt for the rest of this life and never wear the same one twice. Life is a clever T-shirt, sometimes. Or prunes.

So what is your problem?

Are you clicking on all the links as you read and getting lost in the madness of the babbling fool? You could be here by my side and I wouldn't even call you Poncho. This entry, by the way, off the cuff and out of the blue, was started last Halloween and continued tonight, just after midnight, just after the eighth day of the eleventh month of the sour grapes religious excursion into the delusion of time. Happy Birthday, Mikey... just a few nights late. I would have called on the fifth, but I don't have your number anymore.

Wow... fell asleep again.

So this entry is spanning more than a week and still, it is staggering, stuttering, stammering, maybe even stagnating. I would like the world to sing in perfect harmony, but I no longer have the patience to teach it. Still, I still dream of perfect harmony.

Maybe if I upload this right now, it will happen.

Narf :)