I'm having a little epiphanous (which is probably not a word) weekend.

I am tired of not writing in my ElJay, first off. Too much life has happened without my having clickety-clacked it into memory.

(I say "memory" because mine is shittier than a pile of actual shit and is getting shittier by the day. At best, I feel like a bad listener and friend when I can't remember a story someone has told me; at worst, I feel like a good candidate for Alzheimer's research -- as in, "Start watching me now, because I'm a sure-fire bet for Reagan-babble sooner or later.")

I should be typing. Telling my stories. Writing my brain down. Etcetera. So when I'm seventy I can tell my grandkids, "Hang on, let me just Manage My Tags real quick-like, and then I'll tell you all about that crazy-ass time I shat in the streets of Los Angeles. I know it's here somewhere. You're right, I shouldn't say the word 'ass.'"

What else. A hell of a lot.


( Chick'n Nugget is born. )

( Pictures! )

( I call a mulligan. )

( What I meant to say is... )


Of course there are stories. Stories I should tell, and will, upon the morrow. Right now I am 'leepy.

I have managed to add to my people-think-I'm-a-fuckin'-weirdo repertoire of Things I Use On a Regular Basis.

( People-think-I'm-a-fuckin'-weirdo repertoire of Things I Use On a Regular Basis. )