i've been told i don't write enough. at first i thought, well it's been a week, i guess they are right. it has apparently been more than two. um, if you are one of the masochists who checks out my older page, i will say the reason there are fewer entries to choose from, is because i have decided it best not to let my trail get too long. for those of you who don't care, and honestly that should include everyone, i'll be keeping the last six to ten months or so around for your boredom filling pleasure. if, for some chemically imbalanced reason, you need more, drop a line. i may steer you towards some of the rest. then again, maybe not. it's all a crapshoot really.

enough organizing talk. as i was driving this morning i realized that some people don't get the idea of a garage sale. [may also be called a yard sale, rummage sale, etc.] or maybe i don't. what i think it is supposed to be is a time to get rid of things when you have too much stuff, [the word stuff is key], and perhaps get a dime or two in the process. [dime being a bit of money and not a bit of illegal substances. though i guess if you want an ounce for that splendid armoire, that's a deal i cannot pass up.] what such a sale is not, as i see it, is a time to sell all your crap. i mean if you have stuff, sure throw in a bit of crap and fool the yokels into thinking your rusted metal fixtures are antiques that go with the brass faucet knobs. great. i'm sure you'll feel like a champ getting an extra note. but when your entire yard is covered with old shoes and dirty stuffed animals that still have rodents nesting in their hollowed-out shells, it appears much less of a sale, per se, and more like the local pack of dogs took to your garbage bags before they were taken in the morning.

it's really hard to have such overwhelming pessimism so early in the morning. you know? and not that now is early in the morning. no. but when i did wake up, on so few hours of sleep. to feel like crap, crap on no sleep no less, is fairly common, and tolerable and nothing worth even whining about because it's my own fault. but to feel such a weight of pessimism on top of that, is just no good. because there is nothing to fight it with. i'm not cheery, i'm not quick of mind, or even of physical capability so i can keep myself distracted. i just move slowly from room to room, putting on clothes and brushing my teeth and thinking about how everything can go wrong. argh, i say. argh.


"i'll hear your song,
if you want me to,
i'll sing along..
and it's a chance i'll have to take
and it's a chance i'll have to break.." -s.p.


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number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here