Sunday, October 10, 2004

There’s too much shit going on in my dome that needs to be izme’d. I mean, I don’t even have my glasses on yet. Ponder that.

Been there done that. I feel your pain, pax, on that up late bloggin drankin on some drank like a foolio. Should I dig up that file? If I remember.

Uh, the master thesis is not stalled, but it’s not moving. I need to gets moving with it. Still to this day the only forums it has seen are the inner workings of the two computers in my life, and until a publisher hits the green button (red? Fuck it) that’ll be the only spot. Whatevs. Maybe not. Don’t take anything I say at face value. Ferreal. I talk a LOT of shit. Beleedat.

Time fo’ go down stairs and get my, uh, fahgetabboutit, back in a minnit. You won’t notice. Truss.

And… I’m back. How you doin? Whatevs. So, shit, my meaning herein was to seriously express myself. Okey doke, I’m a little drunkentstein, ok, minors, etc. whatevs.

Blah, blah, I just erased some shit. Fuck that. No need for it.

And, uh, hmmm, I was gonna get way deep into like my inner cranium, but suddenly I’m over it. Is this blog dying? I hate to think so. I know it’s not so. I can’t think that it ever could. But, big but, I was perusing the files, seeing as there’s almost nothing else to click on since joe erased all the links, bastard sword that he is, and it’s like, dang, I used to write like a lot of Grecian urn type shit, like odes, na mean? And now, it’s like “yah, the dodgers won. Woo hoo.” And prop up a pic up there and some pithy saying dillio and like say jurk storr and I consider that a post.

Sorry to gyp yall like that. You deserve better.

Oh no. I won’t end on some feel sorry for me or tell me how good I am shit like that. I am the mothafuckin man and don’t need any assurance thus thereof. Werd? So don’t leave a comment.

There’s just no good way to end this. Whatevs. Postscript the editing booth is hereby excused, albeit it usually always is, but this time ferreal, as, uh, fuck it, why do I bother explaining? Peace.