PUGNACIOUS PROCLIVITIES AND OTHER WANDERINGS

Rough week.

My ass is dog tired and I now walk with a gentle list in my gait after the snow shoveling and subsequent destroying of delicate documents.

My "list" actually looks like a female trying to do a Fred Sanford imitation while attempting a sexy dance.

And then the last hours at work today were trying on my mind as I was sweaty/cold from too many layers, shrugging off said layers to try to cool off and trying to communicate nicely while thinking of a cold beer resting quietly in the right bottom corner of the fridge while hurdling tasks that I find compensable and admirable but mundane after many years of following my chosen field.

So I get through a long week, try not to look into a mirror too closely anymore with glasses on (I'm very attractive to myself if I don't wear glasses and I like to keep it that way) and drive off to my little hole in the world.

My Fortress. My Tara.

Well, it could be my Tara but the goddamned septic tank is...

VOICE: Leave that alone, babe, get to the point...

K, so I need gas. Pay at the pump, stick the nozzle in and then go into the store to get sundry items, even though the sign says not to.

I'm uncertain why. Maybe THEY think someone will steal my gas.

Won't happen.

Maybe it's a security concern, an explosion may occur.

Well, if that's it, I'd rather be in the store, as far away from the explosion as necessary.

Anywho,

I go in while my gas is pumping. DAMN THE MAN.

I don't get 2 feet in the store before some fucker who is obviously chatting it up with the cashier says, as he looks at the cashier, "Hey, I'm so good I can tell you HER name."

I pay no attention. I could care less about weird fucks out here. It's Friday, man, I need gas, smokes and the fastest way home.

He says " That's Denise"

Ok, you have my attention.

He then looks around, gazes at the ceiling like a prophet then says "That's Denise ____ (gives my last name and pronounces it correctly).

NOW YOU REALLY HAVE MY ATTENTION BECAUSE IF YOU CAN SAY MY LAST NAME...I KNOW YOU.

This prick then goes on and states things about a bar and maybe I don't recognize him and he's hurt and I am reaching deeply the dark recesses of my mind for intel since I don't go to bars much but when I have, it's been memorable, check the 12 o'clock news.

He continues to toss names and I begin to get quirky but uninterested, random weirdness, time to jaunt.

He says" but don't you recall that dark evening at the bar and the satin sheets?"

I HAD HIM THERE.

I have NEVER been on satin sheets. Even in my oddest times.

I called him on it. And he folded.

Some dude from school. I had to look him up (in an old yearbook once I arrived home) to recall the face as I remembered it.

The thing is?

Why in Hell did he recall ME?

He wasn't one of my guys. And I mean one of my buddies. I ran with dudes back in the day....and as another dude or sister..not as a lay.

It's great to run into old comrades but why fuck with me?

Why all the mystery?

I should have clocked his nuts but I gave him a hug.

I'm an idiot like that.
D

Poor memory storage anymore...journalize this weekend for future reference.

We drove to Cleveland Sat afternoon just as the clipper was making it's way across NE Ohio. Arrived just in time to get into our room.

I've never much liked going to Cleveland since everytime I've gone there, I get into a yelling match with the cops over how I'm driving up there.

Hey, I live in the woods, man. AKRON is big time for me so lay the fuck off, will ya?

And then there is the crime, homeless folks all over and just the damned filth of that city.

Chris kept stating that everything has changed up there since the late 80's and early to mid 90's when I used to spend some time in the "Mistake by the Lake" and I, in my infinite wisdom constantly berrated him over these past weeks when he said we'd be walking around town into the wee hours visiting the various venues in the City.

I am so glad I was wrong. AND we will be forging plans for another visit accompanied by our current crew of miscreants for some partying relatively soon.

We stayed at the Radisson, across the street from the Q. Next door is the Winking Lizard for sustenance and a convenient watering hole.

About ten minutes walk North (on Prospect)to Playhouse Square. (Larry the Cable Guy was fun).

From Playhouse about 10 minutes walk South, down Euclid) to 4th Street for the Grille and cool bowling/pool place. 4th Street is decorated as an Orleans style street and DO NOT MISS GOING TO HOUSE OF BLUES EVEN IF IT'S JUST A COVER BAND PLAYING. WICKED SWEET PLACE TO PARTY.

If you go to House of Blues early in the day and find a seemingly nice dude standing around, ask for a tour, he'll take you through some back door, authorized personnel only type places if you smile big and say please.

At House of Blues, drink about 4 Heiny's and dance with strangers...good times.

EARLIER IN THE DAY:

From the Rad, about a 5 minute walk to the Arcade, which is a lovely building Chris new about from a history book. It touts the Hyatt Regency Hotel for rooms and many shops inside but the shops were closedrather early and were boutique type places anyways. The building is a must see though since we have a book that shows a pic from about 1880 or so and it looks relatively the same. You can also stop to watch some older dudes in what looks to be a chess tourney going on. Look up Hyatt Regency at the Arcade online to see what I'm talking about. I still prefer to stay at the Rad, though.

If you stay at the Rad:

It is 100% non smoking. BUT if you really want to smoke, try to find Mike, the "smoking police". He's an Indian (not Native American...from India) and will show you how to back door the smoking policy if you're nice and tell him Chris and Denise sent you. He has this secret place you can go to, especially in this type of weather so you don't have to go outside...just down the hall from your room, but if you really want to smoke in your room, he'll teach you that as well.

Other than that, take advantage of your room. Make love often and well and stock the fridge with Heiney's and wine. Remember your Excedrin.

HAH! Gotcha there for a minute.

I don't miss any of them, well at least the ones that are still creepy crawling the streets of NE Ohio, beating women, stealing, setting fire to things, running from the cops or spreading their legs for anything that moves.

The fish would stop swimming in their tanks when family would visit my house.

All the good ones are dead and you lucky fuckers get me to contend with...no supervision whatsoever by a matri or patriarch!

I am both in my little realm and despise the role since noone listens to me anyways.

But they'll miss me when my wages are no longer buying them shit! Hah! Suck on that egg, bitches.

My user pic is my frequently incarcerated cousin Johnny. I found him when I was bored one night and just plugged in every shady character I could think of while draining the fridge of beer.

He was a funny dude, hard to control at times but we made a few memories in our youth.

A country boy, poor but of interesting parentage and as he hit his late 20's to early 30's, resided in the Maryland/DC area, would frequently bus home to my Grandma's Akron home and tout stories of being in the CIA, give everyone the look you see in the pic and generally freak everyone out until he'd get into another scrape and be sent back to prison.

He almost knifed me one time when I asked him if the food in prison was good. He replied it wasn't and I told him I figured it must have decent eats since he kept going back. Yep, almost achieved a new scar that day.

Chris met him when my Mom was dying back in 2001 and heard some of the old stories, for that I am greatful since noone would believe them from my perspctive. Thank God Johnny was having an up day.

He was the black sheep of the family but there are and were so many gray ones.

I was fond of him since I was always the Geraldo Rivera of the family and a tad older so I'd ask things while the adults were inebriated and learned to run fast after a time to dodge the parents if I got on their nerves from asking too much.

I heard he had AIDS and may have found his sister whom he was separted from at an early age due to that part of the family being placed into Wit Pro.

I wonder if he's still alive.

But I'm also scared to find out.

I may write a little something about him since he's been such an intersting characte in my life and I always wanted to use him as a subject.

is someone trying to mind fuck with my kid.

Especially when that someone is a mousy piece of crap friend of hers since 2nd grade.

Yeah, I get to be the bad guy again but I don't really care anymore.

This girl has a heretofore undiagnosed issue called NONDISCIPLINE that has become a moderate mental issue at this point. She has chosen to self counsel herself and the cure seems to be projecting her feelings of inadequacy and self importance onto my kid, who then buys the whole mess and becomes morose and dejected, confused about her own feelings of self when exposed to this kid.

I've had to pick up the pieces over the years and get my childs mind back on track but no more. I've had it with the damned kid.

I never wanted to be a parent that tried to keep a child from a friend. My parents tried it and it always backfired.

But where I am diametrically different to my parents is communication. Jules knows where I stand on this issue and how I think the relationship is very damaging to her. I have presented a temporary solution in the form of a "break" from the friend with a possible reunion if the kid gets her mind right.

That's it on that front.



One raging question....

Is it wrong of me not to be excited but moderatley quizzical in my countenance, maybe even say something smart assed if someone expects me to congratulate them on being declared finally clear of an STD?

Did I miss a LIFE MEMO?

The election is forthcoming and I'm still shaky on what I'm gonna do.

Everyone seems so confident, especially the kids (the 18 to 30 set) since the propoganda is astounding.

And I have actually been accosted by a few locals in the town I work in, while in a group of women smoking or simply wool gathering on a sunny day at lunch time, by old white dudes who assumed I would vote woman since I am one.

Wrong!

Never assume about me. Hell, I don't. This head fights me all the time, I just ride the storm out.

Honestly, I just checked out the other party choices and thought I found a mark but that fell through as well.

The one thing you can guarantee is noone will think like you or have the same answers to that three question quiz.

And rich folks will never understand Po Boys (like me) or how to govern such a large expanse of land with so many people.

Or how to handle and survive being the peacemaker between two heavies in a bar with knives.

It's all a quandry.

I work hard, take care of my shit and do little harm in my everyday workaday life.

I expect the rest in my realm to do the same or I kick ass. That's it in a nutshell.

In other news.....

One of my fav horror authors made a film from one of his shorts.

Clive got Midnight Meat Train on film and it has one of the best decap scenes ever.

A chick is relieved of her head in an early scene and it is filmed from the aspect of her head.

SWEET!

But I'm a sick fuck,

Happy Hallows!

D

It would be to stand all three kids in the kitchen and systematically, over the course of 15 minutes, kick each one several times right in the ass.

But I never get my true hearts wish granted.

Just waiting to see if Chris beats Steph to grandparenthood.

The race be on.........

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Conscientious, Fulfilled, and Spiritual

17 Renaissance, 0 Islamic, -1 Ukiyo-e, -30 Cubist, -21 Abstract and -1 Impressionist!

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

I know this is my third post but I'm coming off of Chantix and catching up on thoughts.

I pose this question:

Is being a self proclaimed realist really all that bad?

AND STEPH...THIS IS NOT DIRECTED AT YOU BUT MAYBE YOU CAN ASSIST IN THE THOUGHT PROCESS

I am put down by dreamers (but only in off handed ways since they can't come up with relevant answers to my oh so gentle queries)and frankly, I am sick of it.

I AM A DREAMER, HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A DREAMER BUT HAVE BEEN PUT INTO SO MUCH SUBMISSION BY DREAMERS THAT HAVE NO REAL GOALS, HENCE NO WILL TO REACH SAID DREAMS NOR THE GONADS TO EVEN ATTEMPT TO SCALE THE HEIGHTS THEY HAVE SET FOR THEMSELVES, THEIR INTERNAL CHEMISTRY OR THEIR DELICATE PSYCHOLOGY THAT AM TOO BUSY TRYING TO GET YOU OFF YOUR ASS SO I MAY CONCENTRATE ON MY OWN GOALS.

KAFUCKINGPICHE?

Goddamn I hate it when I'm labeled.

I'M a REALIST because I set a goal and obtain it..or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof.

YOU are a dreamer because you like to remain that....throw out random thoughts on what you INTEND to do but never really want to pursue.

SONOFABITCHCOCKSUCKERMOTHERFUCKERTITS is all I have to say about that.

And again. Steph, this is not about you or the Cuz.

This sister needs a really good translator to make cohesive sense in real time.

Sometimes I'm better on paper.

D

Remain off Chantix.

Take it no longer.

It is not a miracle drug.

Run the logistics on dying a lingering death by continuing to smoke or continued sickness and terror for a number of weeks or months by consuming the pills in the hopes it will cause me to refrain lighting up.

Oh! and that doesn't even mention not being able to consume beer!!!

Here's the thing. You will quit smoking if you take Chantix.

And here's why.

The first week, on one pill is fine. No effects, a little more focus and the comfortability that you have a quit date in two weeks.

By the second week, you take two pills. One in the morning and one at night. That's when it falls apart.

Now maybe it's because of my feeding habits. I eat so little breakfast that I didn't choose to take the morning pill (since I heard it could cause nausea) until lunch when I consume a decent amount of sustenance. That's noon.

I would then take the second pill after dinner. Between 6 or 7.

Should be ok, right?

Nope. Here is my experience. Now, I flagged a bit since I became ill but thought it could simply be the first cold or flu symptom of the season and slipped back down to one pill for a few days. I went back to two and same shit.

Here's what you can expect on 2 pills and these symptoms aren't uncommon...I know other people (who actually quit)who went through the same gamut before they gave up on the pills and smokes for good.

Two pills a day will:

1. Make you a little nauseous in the evening.
2. Continue to make you more nauseous in the evening.
3. Will cause you to smoke less since that will make you more nauseous in the evening.
4. Will NOT cause you to vomit after 1/4 beer but will compel you to go to bed by 9:30 (even if your typical bed time is 11:00) since your body warnings tell you you will hurl if you don't shut down immediatley.
5. You WILL have frequent interesting, confusing, scary and thought provoking(where did THAT come from type) dreams. Unfortunatley only one was of the "morning wood in a female sense" erotica. The others were the type that jolted me out of repose approximatley 4 times EVERY NIGHT. And this is from a person that goes into a virtual coma every time she sleeps.


I'm out. You want my supply? Ask. It's yours. Me?

Lighting one now.

D

I rec'd the following email today (or yesterday or something. I don't check my email very often) and I was just intrigued enough to open something from a stranger.

Key words no one else would connect to me unless they were in the "real" know were used and I bit.

I followed through with a reply and I hope I hear back.

THE EMAIL:


"Today I showed my Dad - Wallace J. Johnson, Jr. Army 101st Airborne Unit - how to use the internet to locate those he served with in Vietnam. He served with, whom he affectionately refers to as "Cooley" in Vietnam in '68, I believe. He has been to the Wall in Washington, but hasn't had much luck locating those who came back.

He has a list of people he wants me to find for him. I apologize if I have overstepped any lines by sending this to you. I just wanted his family to know that my Father thought very highly of his friend, Cooley. There probably isn't a day that has gone by since his return, that he hasn't thought of his time in Vietnam.

I pray that your family is well and that those who have fought and given their lives will always be remembered. I know that we will never forget.

Barbara Johnson-Reeder"


The email refers to a third cousin whom I never met since he never made it back from Vietnam as a young man of 19.

The story begins 20 years ago when I was 22.....

My Grandpa had died (offed himself to be exact) and I was helping Grandma go through the "real" old stuff since she knew I'd be interested.

I dug a dress Army hat from the back of a closet, set it on my head with stern posture and a jaunty pat and asked who it belonged to. I assumed it was from one of the many men in my family who had served in the forces over the years.

She relayed that it belonged to Shelby Cooley, a cousin, and explained that he died in Vietnam. She had very little information except that he was a kind and handsome soul.

I recalled his name all these years since it just stuck....Shelby (Mustang Shelby) and Cooley...is just cool.

Anyone who knows me, knows that hat remains on my dresser to this day.

It's even been borrowed and forgotten by the borrower. But it's one of the few material objects I WILL ASK BACK.

I look him up on the Wall when I'm in DC and some years ago found a site that gave info and mapping on his movements and final demise.

The poor guy landed and died within 2 months.

I appreciated that email.

I am so glad High School football season is almost over...my nubs are frozen as I write.

Hope all is well with you and yours,

D

YES>>>

Dave is on the house, for a short time!

My wannabe son from anutha cunta.

Dave is my bro...good dude.

He's gettin' older now, long in the tooth (on my gauge) because he's been through alot and I have to excuse his upbringing constantly and get him back on track frequently.

Not that he listens, mind you.....just that he's free out here and I make him speak.

I ask him how he's doing without really expecting answer but am ready to give suggestions, take suggestions or rap.

AND SPEPH..GUESS WHAT?

He has to move again.

But was that really unexpected?

D

It's atypical of me not to be up on all the info on the Pres and VP debates but I recorded them for later viewing.

I can't get the teens out of my living room (where the gadget that records shows is located)long enough to see anything in it's entirety anymore.

This evening both girls decided to watch last evenings debate since I harp about making your own informed decision instead of touting what everyone is saying you should think.

I guess it worked, at least for a time.

I went about my evening routine, cleaning and picking up after everyone and they seemed to be riveted to the debate.

So I went downstairs to chat with Chris for a few.

As I went back up I heard the girls in a heated debate and was intrigued enough to eavesdrop a bit and find out the subject of their argument, believing they had opened their mnds to the current events of the day.

Nope.

They were arguing over who slept more in a given day.

These girls sleep like it's an olympic event.

Jules snoozes when she gets home from band practice and I've seen Darci sleep about 18 hrs in one day. These are not unusual occurences either.

After hearing them battle on who sleeps more and watching them sit on their asses while I hit home, cook them dinner, clean up after dinner, do wash, scrub floors, toilets and bathtubs and other shit until 9:15....

I LOUDLY DECLARED THAT I THOUGHT THEY WERE BOTH LAZY.

And thus ended the debate.

D

Thanks, Heather for biting on the sibling thing but I tried to start a "Yo Brother is So Stupid" blog and it became a novella.

With everything else going on why must I deal with an idiotic sibling who has no morals, ethics or means?

And he's psychotic.

AND he was supposed to MOVE WEST a year ago ( I was praying for that and I don't pray often.)

Now he's depleted his list of friends from just plain meanness and is back to me.

GOD, I miss my parents, if for nothing else than leaving me here with HIM strapped to my back.

He's not around often but when HE is, it's quintessentially painful.

I'd much rather take a collection call than one from him right now because I KNOW it's something shady since he thinks he's in hiding due to some bad decision making.

I am looking at property in Mexico at this point.

I really thought all the drugs would have killed him by now.

I have four years until I can run from it all.

And I'm breaking in the boots.

D

This is a challenge.

I have an idiot brother.

I am beginning to believe he is the dumbest person on Earth.

If you think you have a sibling that can challenge my bro for the Dumb Fuck Title, let's trade stories and see who gets the big gold belt.

D

Being a netflix customer for two months has allowed me to view films I not only didn't know existed but those I couldn't possibly rent from the local rural merchantile.

I exclusively watch foreign and indie since most of the mainstream fare leaves me questioning whatever intelligence still remains within this vile thing I call a skull.

Not to say I haven't viewed a few rags but most have been interesting. I even went back in time to a Polanski film released in '76 or so and while I was dissapointed, at least had the opportunity to see him in drag which I have to count as bonus.

I had the film The Bridge in my que for about a month but kept slipping it back down to the bottom since I felt I needed to repress the morbidly curious facet of my personality. I got over it and had it sent right on over.

There is only so long I can be repressed, even to and within myself, before I break through the caul that confines.

The Bridge is a documentary of suicides from the Golden Gate Bridge. It is the number one destination for suicides in the world.

This guy decided he was going to set up shop and film delicate surroundings, flora and fauna, but mainly the bridge and people on it.

And yes, he catches people jumping to their deaths.

I knew this going in, hence my denial/non denial of renting the film.

And honestly? The actual jumps and water hits are anticlimatic (if you're a sick fuck like me)but the back stories are EXTREMELEY engaging, thought provoking and, to my mind, being an amateur psychiatrist in the off hours, educational into the inner workings of the mind and it's maladies.

I feel better for renting the film to be honest.

The director found out who these people were and interviewed those close to them in their final days before they vaulted.

And honestly? The signs were there. Not that anyone could do anything about it. Most of the family and friends were given advance notice of the person's final demise...by the person themselves...but it had been such an ongoing and repetitive theme for a period of years that they seemed to be distanced from the facts until the end result.

JUST SO YOU GUYS KNOW.....

If you start talking suicide shit, I will put you in the looney bin....it's better than the alternative.

Just know this....I will join you in the cell. Three hots and a cot.

Do you really want that raining down on you?

Thought not.

Sometimes unsuccessful at expressing myself properly, I am back to LJ.

The venue is smaller here. I prefer that.

Myspace was a complete gas and I loved it. Made many online friends whom I keep in contact with through other means but it became too much.

I found myself (in times of boredom on the site) gaming and then becoming entranced by the games, needing to take on more "friends" whom I didn't really want and in the end blogging and being misunderstood by a close personal friend who took it wrong.

That was the end for me.

No excuses and no blame except on this side of the county.

And I honestly believe that the altercation with The Angel was a wake up that I needed.

Thanks Steph!!!!!

I needed a knock upside the titty to realize I was allowing so many other interests to fall by the wayside.

Why did I allow a site to entrance me so?

Boredom? Loneliness in the wee hours when my brain actually begins to awaken?

I don't know but Steph is my grace and in a way she will never realize, kick started my lazy ass to get truckin' again.

IS THAT WINE READY OR WHAT, GIRL?

Love you,

D

Sorry, this is a blog from myspace, merely copied and pasted since I'm a lazy ass these days...

I live in a very rural town on an even more rural street. It's not even a street actually, more of a road. No, that's not it either.


It is a glorified path actually...a one lane through-way that was created over many years of oil and dirt, stone and ash, over and over again, until it became a ROAD on most maps.


I notice if "a strange car passes by within the same half hour" kind of passage.


Alot of forest on all sides, except for one, where my old ass bitch of a neighbor lives...


But that's another tale.


Across the road (path, through-way, whatever) has always, since I was a kid, been a large forested/mining area where anyone over the age of 6 has ridden their motorcycles, mini bikes, whichever vehicle can muster the large hills and deep drops. Pop a wheelie or three.


I had alot of great times over there myself, and hoped to once again since I moved back and took over the family home after the decease of my parents.


All of that has changed now and I'm righteously pissed off about it.


I recently noticed a small amount of clearing to the woods, across the "road" from me and about a mile down. Nothing much, just here and there really, a sporadic tree down here, trails from an earth mover there.


A Bobcat is visible from my front yard.


Today, we were taking down the Christmas lights and the Bocat was going strong. It has this flat thing in the front and they were merely mashing down small trees and pushing over old rotten ones. I think it's a damned weird way to clear land but hey, I don't have a fucking Bobcat, even though I would really like one. So I let it go...


Then...


I begin to REALLY look at what's going on. There's the Bob, doing what I stated previously, but then there's THIS GUY.

He's just standing around, watching the Cat operator, I continue to put Santa and the Reindeer away from the front yard with Dave.

I look over and the guy is beating a large tree with what looked like a large hoe or other farming implement. I continue with the greenery around the fence and the red bows.


I glance back and he's looking at me...dead in the eyes. I am intrigued since it seems to be dead in the eyes but from such a great distance, who can tell? I am actually pissed off that they may be trying to clear for home building so, to me, it's DEAD IN THE EYES.

I glare at him with my powerful green eyes and burn a hole through his skull after I tell him, through mind control, to politely leave this land and never return.


After all of this glaring and improvisation, I motioned him over.


First off, as he walked toward me, I noticed it wasn't a farming implement but a huge stick he had in his hand. All the while, when I was furtively watching, he was beating trees with a large stick, for over 2 hours!



The fucker barely speaks English, I want to say Spanish but the dialect was weird, and he had a hard time shaking my hand. I take it since I am female because I have dealt with fuckers like this before.


He knew how to say "hi" and "I don't know"


After the second "I don't know" I politely walked away, keeping ever watchful of men who beat large trees with sticks as a Bobcat was nearby working and a Bulldozer sat cold within 100 yards.


To shorten this up, I firmly believe there is a Cell trying to set up camp across the road.


That beating on the trees with a large stick for hours really sold me on this version of my minds eye paranoia.


I wonder if their food is good?


D

Having taken my business to myspace, I have noticed a verifiable need to click back here from time to time for gentle release.

The problem lies in my humor and the fact that it's not always understood or appreciated.

Additionally, my psyche and facial expressions may be construed incorrectly in that I am not being taken seriously when I want to and not be conceived as a great comedian when I intend. It gets mixed up in the translation.

I simply must behave on myspace since various assorted indigenous personnel from my personal and profession life have chosen to meet there.

An incident occurred recently that dropped me, literally, to my knees at work and I would like to express the incident here.

My boss is a young, good looking and intelligent man. Unfortunatley he knows this and uses it to his advantage in the most inappropriate place...work. I will state no more here...you make the rest up.

He has a Thesaurus in his head and we do battle every week professionally. English and Math are our weapons against one another.

He asked me the other day (while recalling a previous numbers crunching experiment) while in front of another coworker, if I....

"Recall the gyrations we did the other day concerning blah, blah, blah..."

GYRATIONS?

I froze immediatley. As if recalling everything I had ever done in my life to be certain I never did THAT with HIM.

Nope.

I looked at the coworker standing beside me while still knitting my brow. Trying to find some sense in the comment.

Within 3 seconds, I needed, and found, a file cabinet to hold me up whilst I slightly pissed myself.

Emails between he and I haven't been the same since....

Pieces....

Been on myspace, guys. Having a damned fine time.

Miss you guys like mad.

We really have to hook up there...Prolix, Heather, Angel....amongst others....

I act much nicer there.

Lemme know...