I will chug clam juice like it's orangey flavored motor oil. I'll partake of the dust of the ground. I'll leave scent, only for you. And I'll burn the carcass, when I have to.

My life is not your decoration.

My life is my definition.

Saturday night

I ended up drinking a half rack of Seirra Nevada Pale. At home. Alone.

I thought I'd walk to the store to get one more beer. Driving was out of the question at this point. For obvious reason. I'm glad that even when I'm shitfaced, I still have the common sense not to do anything to stupid.

I got to the store. An easy half mile walk. Then it hit me that there was a bar only another mile-mile and a half away. For whatever reason, I decided to go for it. By this time, it was raining like a bitch too. I guess 6 months of non adventure finally culminated. So I went for it.

I was busy texting with a friend on the walk there, so that helped whittle away the time. When I got there, I beelined for a stool, and sat. I asked for a good IPA, and was told for $5 I could get a good IPA and a free glass. Deal.

It was a nice, heavy glass. One more for the cupboard.

I drank few more, between texting. The bartendress was really cool. She put up with my "What other beers do ya have?' babble.

Last call was called at 1:15am. What the hell? I argued, kinda, for a minute. I'd had enough anyway. Surprised I even got served, but like I said, I can be a pretty good drunk when I need to be.

I started walking home. It was only about 1:30, and I passed a convenience store. Ah, what's one more 22? I bought one, but I don't remember what it was. Stopped to take a piss by some construction site, and it was then I decided I'd better find a side street to walk home, since I about fell over, and had a full, opened 22 in my hand. I made it home, don't know when, and passed out.

As expected, I felt like shit on Sunday and didn't get my laundry done.

its time to sign out burn out and give up. Perfect color isn't possible, so shut up. Goddamn little asshole, little lump lip. Drink water, be quiet, and starve. You get embarrassed when your body speaks. Let your eye scream. Have I been alive for roughly 11680 days? Doesn't seem that many. Estimates.

Turns out it's only 11548 days. 277152 hours. 997747200 seconds.

Boring.

Young enough to die of a old man's heart. I might go for a walk tonight. I wish I had NY sidewalks and Washington beach dreams. Rain, cement, noise, and on the flick, a green, lit, acreage of dirt, tree's, and bamboo. And xylophones. And water.

Huggies noise. Huggies will hold two pounds of streetwalker bullshit you know? Fuck pdx would be fun tonight. It's time to invite the clan down for another night at the Magic Garden, and drinking of whiskey on the forbidden rooftop of a downtown motel.

a ghost, a relationship, a tear

I'm not sure why, but I'm in a mood tonight. I can't seem to find people with my tastes, that aren't beyond my grasp. People that share a little something with me. Well to be honest, girls that share something with me. Who am I kidding. My buddies ( the guys), we all share the same taste. Otherwise we wouldn't be friends. We are a small group. I like it that way, because I know there isn't any bullshit. We've been friends for years. Twenty + years to be more precise. My buddies? All married. Not that I want to be married, but shit, isn't there supposed to be someone for everyone? Why did I have to make all the mistakes, make all the errors, for them to learn from, and I'm still out in the cold? I've been married twice. I'm 31. I'm not old, but I'm getting there. I talk lowly of myself, but I do think I'm decent. Good taste in music, good sense of humor, good sense of morals. I have common fucking sense. I make good $, I'm happy with where I've gotten myself. I think it boils down to confidence. I have nil to none. I'm not sure. Maybe I haven't reached out enough. But, when I have reached out, I've gotten bitten. It's common sense to try to keep yourself from getting hurt. Isn't it? Ya get bit enough times, you'll quit whatever it is that your doing. Therefore, I am done in trying. It's easy for people with a good relationship to say keep trying. They're happy. They have no worries. I've tried, really, I fucking have. Yea, been divorced twice. Judge that if you must. First time I was to young and stupid. A mistake and we both knew it. Second time, I got my heart ripped to pieces. A story left for another time. Suffice to say I had two step daughters taken from me, two little girls that I cared for. Two little people that made life a little better, and in the end, made me realize that maybe I'm not cut out to be a figure in someones life. Not a parental figure anyway. I'm 31 fucking years old and still not sure who I am. Or maybe I just haven't met the person who"ll make me feel better about who I am.

Don't except sense in any form

I am there. For the first time in almost 5 years.

Stupid? Yep.

Music time.

Yesterday, tomorrow, $$

Well, fuck yesterday. I totally forgot it was Valentines Day. Good thing I didn't have to buy anything for anyone. That's not bitching, that's relief. I'll bitch about not having anything to buy the other 364.

Tomorrow night there's a party I'm invited to ( I don't know how it happened either). With a few people I don't know. I dread those situations as I have a low tolerance for idiots, so hopefully they aren't. I'm uneasy about going.

I bought the first issue of Rock N Roll comics today.....the one with the Melvins in it. Gotta spend my $$ on something, I guess it's better than crack or whores.

Well, I felt the need to write, but christ, this was boring. Stop reading.

Strange Year, stranger

Strange Year, stranger

I am in possession of dual thoughts, mostly. Therapy has two sides. Mine, and theirs. Theirs is $$, mine is peace. Trading money for peace. Like trading oxygen for food. Or turds for potatoes. Nonsense.

So far, 08 has been good. I've been expecting it to. My luck turned around September 07. My dad finally came home, my mom smiled for the first time in 2 years, and I got to see the Melvins 2 nights in a row. I traveled to SF for the last days of 07, intent on having fun. I did, except for the puking and shitting that was thrust on me courtesy of a fucking piece of pizza from Bowsers. I saw some friends again, ones I hadn't seen in years.

I named this a strange year,stranger, because so far it's been peaceful. I fucking hate complaining, because it comes across like any other damn whining dick with a keyboard, but I feel I have the right to bitch. Since 04, lifes been a struggle. I was ready to attack my face with high speed, burning buckshot.

I've met a couple of people so far this year, and they have invigorated my faith in decency. It's strange being part of a group that is few and far between, yet having friends that would fit into that group that are so close. My time in SF was well spent; getting to meet DF and his kind gf Y. I also spent time in Oly meeting RK and her friends, who were also fun as hell. To be able to meet them, tip a brew with them, and talk about our time on this planet has been the BEST therapy one could hope for. I believe that just spending time with people of the same interests would help so much more than telling a stranger your problems. Buying a round or two is also much cheaper. It's a type of therapy that I learned long ago, but never had the balls to pursue. I'm looking forward to later this year, meeting more people, maybe visiting the ones I've met already, and just waking with the east rising sun and challenging it to another fucking day.

I paid off the last of my credit card debt today. Money that was never spent by me, but responsibility that I took on. I'm either stupid or to nice. I would have to vote for the former. And latter.

My new cat, Leo, has woken me up the last two mornings by biting my goatee, and then pulling backwards. Getting hair ripped out WILL wake your ass up. I interpret it as a show of love, but I might be wrong. Since I got him on Thursday, he's gotten very sick. The Humane Society said he probably would, and he did. Gasping for breath, sneezing, and totally lethargic. Since I took him to the vet, and got some meds, he's 100% better. Hence the chin biting and playfulness.

I feel like I'm back in the saddle, 14 years to late. I didn't waste 14 years though, I got smarter. Now, someone just tell me that tomorrw.