Every EVERY goddamn fucking finger of mine twitches and my teeth vibrate and my mind is a fucking circus. Smooth rolling bourbon and brandy and sanity I guess.

Have you ever seen Roxanne Pulitzer's tits?

Jesus.

How to buy a house.

I'm grinding my teeth into dust right now.

Anxiety.

I'm shaking like I've drank a pot of coffee when in fact I haven't had a cup of coffee in over ten years.

I CANNOT FUCKING RELAX.

I bet your ass smells like birthday cake.

Been on a HST kick lately. Going as far as reading two books on or about the Dr at the same time. Lookout, badass here. I also decided to buy some Wild Turkey and see what that was all about. First sip was harsh. Then I recalled seeing Hunter always filling his glass with a handful of ice before filling it.

Much better.

It's a good thing I don't own a gun. I'm tempted to shoot propane tanks out in the middle of Killingsworth everytime a drunk and often yammering pud walks down the street talking to himself.

I'm also tempted to act and talk like the Doctor. It's hard not to. When you read his books, watch his documentaries, and drink his bourbon, how don't you? You don't because it's the easy way out. It's easy to copy. It's not so easy to think straight.

I like Makers Mark better. I'm not a gun nut.

I am a fan of explosions. I love seeing flames tongue kissing the atmosphere. I love the boom.