here i am in the house alone ish, and i've realized something.
i love writing at night.
anything, and everything.
i feel like i used to have all this time to write late at night, but i don't know how that's possible.
here's a list of ten things that kick ass:
1. being called a Random Stranger.
2. having sore muscles
3. drinking carb free, yet tasty and potent alcohol
4. being an anomaly in this fucking town
5. dammit, am i out of things already?
6. yes that one counted...
7. leather pants on 50 year old rockers
8. rhythm nation
9. watching football on tivo
10. my foot (that's right, back that thang up and i'll plant one)
that was the lamest list of all lists ever made, including grocery lists.
i should go back and give it some thought, or at least spice it up or make it funny or scary or weird.
and you do deserve it, really you do.
do you know what else you deserve?
well, lots of big wet kisses and your favorite foods cooked by my hands.
a party to celebrate the beauty of you.
maybe a few of the pictures i took in the bubble bath last night.
but there are some niiiiice ones....
later this week.
i think it would be different if i was single.
hell, i know it would.
this would be a pay per view porn site!!
all day and all night live web cam...
me and my toys.
(wonder what kind of google hits i'll get off THAT...)
had a good time with the whole super bowl thing.
i don't know.
i need some fresh faces, or something.
i want to open a little shop.
specializing in vintage clothing and vinyl.
(yes those big black disc thingies....)
how great would that be?
i bet some of you would want to shop there.
i bet some of you would want my cowboy jacket.
it wouldn't be for sale, but you'd want it.
you'd try it on and love how it looked, how the weight of it felt on your shoulders.
you'd go to sleep later and dream about it.
tossing and turning...
your mind would show you a movie.
of you walking down a busy street, getting looks.
those jealous, wonderful kinds of looks.
those interested second glances from attractive folks.
you'd wake up in a sweat, needing that jacket.
after several weeks of this recurring nightmare, you would be beyond reason.
you'd put on your slippers and a sweat shirt and walk to the quiet main street.
the moon would be behind a cloud, but as it peeked out you would crouch lower behind the bench in front of my store.
with one last look around you'd dash for the door, knowing i only had a single, light lock on it.
forcing your way in, you would head for the display above the counter.
the moonlight would hit it and your heart would stop at the beauty.
the harsh sound of the chair as you drag it to the display would make you jump.
you would remove the jacket from the form...
and slip into it.
and the desperation would fade.
only to be replaced with delirium.
glee of such a high degree that your palms would sweat and your smile would hurt.
running back to your tiny, dim apartment you would strip naked and wear only the jacket.
answering no calls, ignoring knocks on the door.
in a zen like state of concentration, willing the coolness of the jacket to seep into your skin, your blood, your soul.
so, it might be best if i don't open a store.
hey, if i'm going to procrastinate and give up on dreams--at least i'm creative about it.
so fuck off.
really, whichever you prefer.
it is a great jacket, though.
it probably belongs on that list of stuff that kicks ass, but that would require editing.
and that's a dirty word around here.
why edit when i can pump out more crapola???
happy ground hog's day, everyone!!
raise your hand if that didn't make you think of Bill Murray.
now you look like an idiot.
but at least all the people at your office don't know why you're raising your hand.
otherwise they'd all laugh at you and ostrasize you for not being a fan of that movie.