a bit of heartache.

I need to get a second job.

vegetables.

I will admit. Crazy man at the meat aisle, you really managed to frighten me into not eating meat tonight. No no, not in some "meat is wrong, give meat back to cows!" kind of way, but rather in the "perhaps one day, standing in the meat section, running the tips of my fingers over each and every cellophane wrapped package I will catch in the polished chrome display surface the hungry glint in my eyes and realize oh no, I am you." You, crazy meat man, are somewhere in your fifties and your hair is long and strawlike. It greys at random intervals and in between these periods seems to retain some sort of brownish hue. You wear a vest that I have never been able to describe the type of but I can only say you see it and it looks like it has puffy segmented pillows that one day sat down and said "Guys, let's get this shit done" and all formed together to create a vest of bright orange so that you would be noticeable when you rummaged through the steaks. You have cargo jeans and your head is shaking in very strong no motions as you mutter under your breath and it took me a while to realize you just kept saying three dollar steak over and over and over again. You flipped through the steak like dewey decimal system index cards with your steak clawed hand and it shook

and it shook

and it shook

but there was no three dollar steak. your head started shaking more and more savagely and your chanting grew just a bit louder but not so much louder as to bring more attention to yourself than your colony vest and rapid shaking were already doing. I hung back a bit, then motioned forward still, at this point, intent on having some sort of raw dripping meat inside this salivating maw of contempt but then just as I was looking (really content with a 5 dollar steak at this point, I wasn't about to cut in on his territory) you turned your head and it stopped shaking, instead fixing its positioning directly on me. Our ten hour stare down probably only lasted a good 3 seconds but I retracted my arm and walked to the frozen vegetable aisle.

I guess they steam in their own bags these days.

one less person to kiss.

I wrote about three sentences, and then let my finger press down gently while my eyes watched a blinking cursor erase whatever it was I thought was worth thinking about. It wasn't. Or, perhaps more accurately, it certainly wasn't worth writing about. It's 1030 and I haven't been sleeping much lately. I took a nap earlier but I'm still pretty tired. I guess this is it.

I remember once I blogged every day, years ago. Afterwards I felt relieved, like I'd outsourced my entire anything to the internet and to hell with it, let the 1's and 0's carry the burden of my problems. These days. Lost appeal perhaps.

But really, more likely, I am just out of practice.

Motivation. No laziness. a something something something.

no title

ugh.

i mean it's just not as if.

is it?

wrong time right person.