Posted 6:27 PM by Alfred

So busy. So busy that my number one client, the super secret JS, called, and I had to tell them politely to go fuck themselves via their own cornhole. Of course I mean this metaphorically. I informed them that the woods were full of rabbits and if they could consult with the squirrels and boo weevils that I would be sure to get back to them on their skunk needs at the nearest possible possibility.

And they had the nerve to hang up on me. On me! The king of the biz. Well I informed them in no uncertain terms, at least to myself under my breath after I had hung up the phone, that I would not take that shit from him her or no man woman beast. And I'm pretty sure they got the picture, or if they didn't, then at least they'll know that I'm the best, and if not that, then, well, I had a really tasty dr. pepper with lunch today, so you can't take that shit away from me.

Ok, so whut's deep in my mind right now? C'mon, let's delve.

And there you go, I just had to edit a bunch of shit. not that it was relevant, far from it, it was ponderings on the james bond series of peliculas (movies) and well, fuck it, I don't feel like explaining my paranoid delusions to a giant tarantula infested web of shame, so yeah, there's that for you to marinate on.



Howdy festering pile of dogshit, how they hanging? Whut's that? purty good? Glad to hear it. ya know, all I want is for you to understand my hopes wants dreams fears insecurities and every little detail of my innermost consciousness but without me having to divulge one single piece of pertinent information. Is that too much to ask? I mean, I can go to the comic store and buy say batman number whatever and I don't necessarily have to know that this man's mother and father were slaughtered by a ruthless gunman right in front of his eyes when he was only like 8 years old, right? I mean, yeah it helps, to understand his motivations for putting on tights and swinging from a rope at god knows what hour of the night, but even then, hey, people do weird things to get their kicks.

So the master thesis was in a major stall for a while, but last night I cranked out a couple pages, and I was pleased to see that I jumped right back in there like Amelia Airheart riding a bike, misspelled name and all. It just flows still, where, nobody knows, and I still like it like that. the crew is stuck in Vegas now, well, not stuck literally, but I don't want them to leave yet, well, I guess you wouldn't necessarily put it that way, it's just that the story has not flowed to the point of them leaving yet. Sadly there is lot's of interesting stuff in Vegas. My only fear is that I will look like I'm biting hunter s. Thompson having like some drugged out whatever fest in sin city, even though i am not in any way shape form that's just where the story seems to have gone, so with that in mind, I gotta keep it brief and get them back on the road, problem being I'm having too much fun with the scenery and kooky cast of personas available at your disposable in such a place as the ol' stripola.

Maybe, oh I got it, some wacky scheme with the old guy from before whereby they have to get on a plane to Taos, new mexico! Hell yeah. And then they have to meet some really drunk old Indian that holds like the key to this arcane box full of expired racing stubs from a retired horse track that will prove the particulars of this old crime and then they'll be heroes.

Nah, fuck that, too forced. In fact, I don't even want to think about where they're going. They made it from so cal without me planning it. they'll make it out of the desert in the same fashion. And if they don't, well shit, whatever. But I know they will. They'll cross the country at least half way by the time the tale is told. Or not. Shit. well, whatever.

Have a good one. Go clippers.

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