I wish I still had that gun

We are watching you. Your every move is known to us. There is no reason to fight it. Relax and accept your fate. You are guilty.

“She wakes me up to tell me she’s gone” But I already know that.

Jack Strauss thought he was out when he realized that he still had one chip. He took his seat and continued to play; eventually winning the main event. Moral: you are never really down and out unless you pull the trigger.

After two days the phone does ring. I don’t recognize the voice on the other end, but we talk about sharks for twenty minutes before I hang up. Later that night I find all of my old skin cells hidden beneath the bed. They are plotting a comeback, creating a difficult chess strategy to first defeat me then take control of the continent. My toenail clippings are in on the plan but my liver is the leader.

I drink a liter of bourbon and pass out. My dreams are about rusty coat hangers and trickles of blood.

At three the phone rang again and I stumbled from sleep to answer. The voice on the other end said something vague about the ocean, then hung up. I muttered under my breath and fell back into dream. Whales screaming and nursing mothers.

Do I drink? Yes I do.

Can I insert a novel, a bit at a time, into my blog posts without telling anyone that that is what I am doing? Is it fair to the dozen people who read this damned thing? Does it even make sense to do so?

I want to shave equations into my head.

I want to eat a neighbor.

I wish that I still had that gun.

On a serious note: I may run for congress. Everything I have ever said here may be a problem, but what the hell. I have good ideas.

Life sucks.

There are burning houses and bare bones everywhere.


1 Comment

  1. yes. please continue.


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