Conversation with a little girl

"How old are you?"
"Five"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-two"
"Oh no, you are going to die"
"What?"
"Your nephew is going to miss you"


Thanks, kid.

Who Dat Dog?

I haven't been feeling so me against the world lately.

Some explicit language

I was told that I looked "so sad" in one of my self portraits the other day, and it's true. I am sad. Not sooo sad, people are alive and healthy, but yes, I am sad. I am also sick and tired of the way people have been talking to me about myself. Stop reiterating things that I know already. No really, I know I went to college and did all that work. Uh, huh.. yep, I know. Yeah, well I just don't know exactly what I want to do. Yes, I have looked on the internet. Yes, I definitely have been applying places, but yeah no where really wants to hire me. I know I have a fucking degree. I know this. Really, I was there. What the fuck? Back off! I know I used to have a "good" job but I hated that job. HATED. MISERABLE. DID WE FORGET? Maybe we didn't all know, but this seriously can't be every conversation starter. The world is on fire. It's a huge election year. People are homeless. Traffic sucks. The Yankees are playing well. There's a new season of The Real World. Wayne Brady is in the cast of Chicago. Jon Stewart wrote a new book. The piano is one of the most amazing instruments. Ana Karinina is really freaking long. Iran will have nukes and they are still our friends. The color blue is relaxing. Coldplay does rock. There are a lot of other fucking things to talk about.

Don't knock Flav off the box

I just wanted to let the three people who actually read this blog that my titles very often come from something random I heard on television or a lyric from a song. Today's title is from the wonderful show The Surreal Life. Frankly, if you have not witnessed this season, you totally should. I think I had more to say when I started writing this entry, but now nothing seems to sound right or worth reading. I have a lot of things to do and a whole lot of time to do it but I find my self paralyzed in some way, coming up short. I'm like the Boston Red Sox with my own Curse of the Bambino. Even though Babe Ruth has not done anything for my life except enjoy Yankees victories, my own curse might just be myself. I'm going to call my curse the Curse of the Brainbino. Whatsamadda wit you, brain?

Blowing in the Wind

I have this overwhelming desire to pack some stuff and drive across the country. I would drive back, of course, I don't want to move anywhere, but I've always said I wanted to take some time off and see the United States. If I had enough money saved up and maybe a traveling companion, I would absolutley consider it. I'm confused with everything else in my life.

burr

With my window open halfway, I don't need to see that the temperature is at 59 degrees. I cannot only feel fall; I hear it.

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