Physically, I am not at my best.
My chest is a little sore where it was operated on, I feel kinda weak and tired, and I feel a tad feeble and lame.
But that don’t bother me none.
Because fuck it. Emotionally, I am feeling better.
I feel more upbeat and positive. A whole new chapter of my Fuck It, Whatever club has opened up and I am the charter member. It’s never felt easier to just let the petty shit slip and get back to trying to live.
I’m in the market for whatever makes me feel better.
That means no trying my hopes to big fat dreams. Those aren’t going anywhere, of course. I still want to write TV for a living, or something similar.
I still want to show the world what an amazing and magical dude I am.
But in the meantime you need a life. Maybe a job. Maybe a boyfriend. Maybe a tightly knit fetish community that brunches. Who knows.
Something to make life more satisfying, interesting, and fulfilling for lil ol me.
Like the man said, the world’s a feast, and most poor bastards are starving to death. I plan on tucking in and eating till I am well and truly full for a change instead of living a pauper’s life of constant spiritual and emotional starvation.
Fuck that noise. Gimmie some.
I know life can be better for me if I only take the time to make it that way. This life of just waiting for things to come my way like I’m a sessile filter feeder like a barnacle sucks. I want to wander the world in search of my fortune, or at least somethin better to accupy my great big palatial brain.
I’m bored with all this piddling around. Video games are not enough any more. They are nothing but toys to occupy those who already have lives and jobs and all the rest.
They’re not supposed to be anyone’s substitute for life.
They are merely entertainment.
So in my lazy, unhurried way, I will poke around looking for happier things to do with my time. Better things, things that have a higher effort to reward ratio.
More bang for my buck, so to speak.
After all, what are the odds that this tawdry little clapboard life of mine, wallowing in the mire of my own filth like an ill kept pig and hiding for the world like nobody told me the war was over, is the best a smart fella like me can do?
Surely I should at least be able to make a living.
Even the retards can manage to do that.
And I don’t need to be afraid of life any more. Once I am all healed up, I will finally have the vitality and vigor I have always lacked.
And I am not going to fuck it yup. I’m going to use it to have fun, dammit. Fun!
No matter what it takes. Somehow I am going to get this happiness thing working.
And God help whatever gets in my way.
More after the break.
Smack my bitch up
In this case, the bitch is my goddamned appetite.
It’s being difficult. I have zero appetite. Right now eating seems as unnatural and bizarre as trying to drink your Kool-aid through your nose.
Plus it feels like I got rocks in my stomach. Pointy ones, and they’re none too clean either. It really feels like nothing is flowing right and as proof of that I have also been getting serious lower back pain.
Those two often bunk together : stomach upset and back pain. Like I have said before, I think one sets off the other.
Right now, I think gas gets trapped in my lower gut and builds up into a nasty ball and that ball pushes against the intestinal walls like a very gross balloon and that in turn pushes against my back muscles and brings me pain.
So I could get around at least some of my back problems by getting better at belching.
Or getting that damned gas out somehow. I’m not fussy about route.
I spend most of my time alone.
I will try to remember to attempt to void flatus next time my back hurts. Or when my appetite has vanished. Perhaps the real culprit is my love of carbonated beverages.
But um, let’s not go crazy. I am not ready to give them up yet.
I’m as addicted to them as the rest of the dang world!
So I think I will give this advanced belching a try.
The Fulghum Test
Came up with this earlier and I think it’s killer.
We need to start referring to Libertarian and Libertarian types and other right wing brats as “having failed the Fulghum test”.
Robert Fulghum is, of course, the author of the mondo smash hit “All I Ever Needed To Know I Learned In Kindergarten”, a book of funny, heartwarming stories.
It’s actually quite good. But I am a huge fan of that kind of gentle, warm comedy.
That’s why I love James Harriot so much!
Anyhow, saying they failed the Fulghum test is to say they failed kindergarten because they never learned to share.
It’s a way of setting them up for a massive insult when they ask what it means.
And I mean every word. These moral retards have no place in adult conversation let alone political discourse. As far as I am concerned, there is no scorn hot enough and no shame deep enough for these political pollutants and their anti-moral stance.
Good Lord do I miss the conservatives of old. From the era before Gingrich and Limbaugh. I had a lot in common with those people. I understood them,.
I disagreed with them on a lot too, but they didn’t seem like enemies. They seemed like people with a different POV.
But a series of increasingly stupid presidents forced the GOP to lobotomize themselves along with them – well, it was that or learn to think for themsves.
I miss the true blue Les Nesman/Ned Flanders conservative.
Or hell, even the stuffy corrupt rich establishment conservatives.
At least they still believed in civilization!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.