Hello, hello, hello, echo, echo, echo.
So this strange dude with a potbelly and a hair shirt (that's me) walks back into a room (this blog) and although the dude feels at home there is six inches of dust on the counter tops and no one bothered to take the mail out of the mailbox for six months and instead just let the postman cram what he could into the box and let the rest just fall on the floor. Really people if we are going to be neighbors it's the least you could do.
Where is your head at? I know I haven't been here in months, but I come back and it's like you've thrown a massive party and destroyed the place. The least you could have done was invited me to the party. Hey man, what the hell is with the used Q-tips everywhere and is that a pile of rubber underwear in the corner of the bedroom? Look, I like to drink and destroy things just as much as the next guy but that is just sick. If we are going to be friends we have to get one thing straight - I am going to come and go like a junky and you're just going to have to wait around for me until I need my next fix. I mean you didn't really think this was going to be a two way street. You can hang out here and treat the place like a bus station bathroom, but when I get back I expect to be able to eat off of that toilet seat buster.
Don't expect me to be all happy to see you, and don't ask me questions about where I have been. I am a ghost and an invisible man who just so happens to like to run naked down the middle of a crowded street in broad daylight occasionally. This is exhibitionism and torture shaped like a bullet and surrounded in a gooey chocolate and toffee coating. A guy needs space to run around like a wild dog, but dogs do like to have their bellies scratched from time to time, so here I am. My belly is up and ready to be rubbed, it is ample, and it won't be that hard to defuzz yourself after.
It really went off the rails in the middle somewhere, but in my defense I am completely insane, and I never said any of this was going to make you any smarter. If anything the most you can hope for is to not end up brain damaged. I pride myself as being a man that can prattle on with the best of them. Yes I just used the word prattle - I do occasionally like to think I live in the 1950's. Back when women were broads and booze was in every desk drawer.
I know at some point in my life I'll pay for that last sentence. Probably some broad with an attitude problem. Oh boy!
9 people in Israel read my blog
this month. If you've been following the news then you will understand
why I was floored by that. People with bombs bursting and lives being
lost around them reading my mental drizzle astounds me. Thank you to
whomever you all are. I hope if anything you were able to ignore
reality and keep entertained by my idiocy. It makes you realize blogged
words are not hollow. It often feels like what I write should just
echo off of the walls of the web and return home unread, but the reality
is those words find eyes in the most unlikely places.
Peace...
