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I was told by a friend the page was turned and a new chapter has begun. On paper, the last chapter concluded tragically. Experiencing it seems different somehow. Not so much the mess it would appear to be if I were someone else looking at me.

I spent the evening being charming, funny, well-liked. I can turn that on. I prefer not to. Feels so much like a lie. In involuntary social situations, however, especially when it makes sense politically, the three way bulb clicks to the highest power and I lie. She appeared to feel special. She was, after all, a guest of the C.E.O. And of course, I would have much rather been spending time with another "she" at the party. I didn't hurt anyone. It's just not natural to me anymore. I haven't a clue what I'm saying.

Just happy to be home. And the pussy is happy to have me. Did I mention I hate weekend-long work functions?

There, Jaimie... Good, Bad or Indifferent.

The sound of silence

Don't try and make sense of this.

7 AM on a Sunday. Submissively hoping for inspiration. The keys strokes between Red Bull and a cigarette light no visible path. Up and down to tend to the little people waking up and starting their day. Lucky Charms nibbling, Max the Snake, preschool games on a P.C. purchased with stolen money. I miss her and my heart is light.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

If only I had a dog that ran away. And a truck that's broken down. And I drank whiskey. And lived in a trailer... Then I may have the makings for a really good country music song. Oh, and I should probably know how to sing. Note to self: Take singing lessons before attempting to write a country music song about your life. So... Hi everyone. (If there's anyone left) I'm right here. Picking up the pieces the storm left behind. The sun is showing through the parting clouds and everything's sprouting buds. It's all gonna be green. Green and beautiful.

Don't get up, just relax. I still need to sweep up and take out the trash.

Angels in Azusa

My Mom
12/11/1940 - 2/4/2005

No message of sadness here... My Mother was a great woman. She was dynamic, generous, loving, challenging. And crazy. My Mom was a fucking nut. A lunatic in the very best way possible. She did her very best for me and was adored by my children. She died peacefully and will be greatly missed.

Delicious When Served at Room Temperature with a Human Hair in it

"Saved to draft..." I'm losing count of posts suffering from this affliction. Then I write this. And I was trying to say Wha?

I'm attempting to knock down walls. (Intense stare from the Pussy as I type) "Knock down that wall, knock down that wall... And knock down that farcgin' wall." Only the walls are indestructible Inviso-brick. Can't see 'em and can make a dent when striking. I need a hobby. Or the time to participate in a hobby. Or an explosion. God I wish I loved watching sports.