And he who,,,

forgets

another monochromatic day

not manic, nor panic, just gray and windy and cold
it will be great when spring finally decides to show up
wtf? how does a season/weather pattern call out of work?

another night in the basement
I drank some coffee in the hopes of making progress
in the library books
a week overdue
whatever...

I could study the material for the test I blew off on Tuesday night
I could eat a mountain of goat shit too
both would be equally pleasing and affective

so instead of reading, I watched some Spartacus:GOTA
and now here I am
clackity-clacking out thoughts for all two of you
sometimes I think this blog is so boring, I don't even read it

I bet it bares incredible likeness to the composition pads, notebooks and journals started and left for dead over the years

first song to "work" when I popped open winamp
was, "nothing man" by pearl jam
I had to crack a smile at that,
even if, for lack of anything else,
wonderful irony

next song was, "Where I want to be" by Dangerous Summer
and nothing could be further from the truth
as beautiful of a place as this is
it makes me even more insane
there is little to distract myself from myself
yeah sure, there are plenty of places to go and walk
and look and relax
but all of these activities
let my mind set to wandering
and then Im possessed
by the voices
yelling at me
and asking questions which after almost
forty-fucking-years
I still dont have answers to

can't tell if I'm cold cause my blood sugar is low
or because Im sitting in a fucking concrete basement
and two inches of fresh powder blanket the sea grass
on the front lawn, back yard and
the rest of this, "great island."

april first and new snow
if thats not a kick in the nuts
I have no idea what is
all I know is when the sun shines
and I can get out of the box for a few hours
each day
jimmy feels somewhat better

still get caught up in
the, "I dont have what other people my age have" game
although, now, faster than ever
I'm falling fucking behind
my brother, with his high school diploma
a new three bedroom house
and putting together his own business
and why shouldn't he be successful
he didnt jump through the hoops like
me
he told the hoops to go fuck themselves
and the universe or whatever else is out there
said, "hey buddy, good job on being a crank! Here, have a good life, with our compliments."

it's a bitter pill to swallow
but being who I am
I barely fucking notice
too busy worrying about
whether my next job will be
bagging groceries
shoveling shit
or picking up heavy shit
and putting it down someplace else

suppose I should hit the hay
gotta get enough rest
so as to be able to go to the
gym
at first light
so I can pick heavy shit up
and put it down
in an effort to
keep the fucking
gun out of my mouth

I hope you all are well.

Cheers,
JJ