October 13, 2005

• If I could deal with pain like I can heartbreak
  I would be the most fragile pine needle,
  feeble and insecure with the slightest waiver
  of the wind.

  
  

  If I could deal with heartbreak like I can pain
  I would be the mightiest oak tree,
  stalwart and enduring even in the most ferocious
  of hurricanes.
  

  ---

  
  I really need a hobby.  I've decided that playing bass is great, and writing is fine and dandy, but to tell the truth, I do these things purely for material indulgence.  I need something that the only satisfaction I get out of is a personal gain.  Perhaps fishing or coin collecting. 
  

  
  

  ...no

  
  

  
  

  ...too boring and trivial for my mind

  
  

  I think this leads me to needing estrogen in my life.  My supply base as become stagnant and requires a new taste.  I know this may seem a bit stereotypical of male needs, but what can I say, I'm just a guy.  No guy can live, no, "live" is a word that is taken for granted in how it is meant these days and now only means that it would be really hard to make the day go by without something.  Let me rephrase this:  No man can SURVIVE without some form of estrogen in their day-to-day lives.  Unfortunately, the more grotesque form of man has to resort to dirty magazines and late-night satellite channels to find his fill of this "golden hormone of joy". 

  
  

  Of course, now I get the notion that perhaps it is not the mere presence of estrogen that I crave, but perhaps a relationship with an estrogen star-cruiser.  No kiddos, I'm not talking about the Girls Gone Wild Tour Bus.  God knows, I would never caress an automobile...or would I?

  
  

  No, I probably wouldn't while sober.  That is the only answer I can give to that question.  Moving on...

  
  

  
  

  ...and on

  
  

  
  

  ...and on

  
  

  
  

  ...and on

  
  

  I guess it all boils down to the one question that drives my voyage:  Is there an estrogen star-cruiser out there that has an equal need to find its complimentary testosterone fueled docking station?

  
  

  Okay, that sounded a little too subliminal for even me.  It had a reversal of cliche metaphors and all their inner workings.  Thats just....weird. 

  
  

  I'll probably meditate on this, forget what I was talking about, go back to watching those late-night satellite broadcasts of Touched by an Angel (*right*), pass out on the livingroom floor like I do every other night.  Wake up, remember around 3rd Period that it isn't Sunday, and get in a car crash on the way to school.  Yep, I have my future all planned out...unfortunately.
  

  ---

  
  Homecoming is tonight.  I won't have my digital camera, but I'll have the regular one, so it'll take a bit to get any "After-party" pics up...probably about a month.  I've got my Mom's turbocharged Nissan, capable of kicking Stephen Saracini AKA Keith Urban's Bluegrass Blasting Jeep's ass anyday (I can hear that steel guitar twangin' from a block away), so I'll be riding 5 on 18's at 160 in a tux bitches!  I'm out...gotta meditate.
  

  -(buff)MUFF-

  • 10:27 pm
  • 3 Comments