Amazing how many words are generated from people who never adequatly answer this question, eh?
I am having a day... sort of a too cold and painful day. Woke up late, walked the dog and petted the kitty for a bit, turned on the noon news and watched pope parades and Billy Corigan talking about how happy he was that he was at the opening day for the cubs. That whole neighborhood goes nuts during the games. I used to live a couple blocks from there, and with the back door open you could hear them cheering this and that. A big drinking thing, for sure. I have never gone to a game, which is a shame, I suppose. I have enjoyed most baseball games that I have seen, but spending fifty bucks on baseball? I'll to to movies or a blues concert or something, you know?
I won't go so far as to say that I hate jocks, because that is silly, but there is a mentality there that suits american business better than my temperement.
I am reading a book of very early joyce carol oates short stories. They are fascinating in a train wreck kind of way. Being a bit of a prole, her constant references to people with 160 plus IQ's and whatever strikes me as kind of silly and young. She is stuck in an academic world at this point in her career. I was kind of surprised to find this material, after first reading her books bad girls and then one that was based of jefferey dalmer and a few short stories, I would have never expected this from her. One of the stories is dedicated to Bob Dylan. That was sad for some reason.
Anyways, this is just a little shot of words in the dark, written for no other reason than to pretend that I am not watching the A Team....
M is home... time to go.... kill yourself and others, please.
ALL WRITING IN HERE IS THE PROPERTY OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY, AND YOU CAN GET MY PERMISSION TO PERFORM AND REPRINT WITH AN EMAIL. Steal from me and you will be cursed in such a way that your hands turn into worthless, jelly fish like appendages that sting your intimates.