Got my taxes out today and finally mailed two postcards to my Esperanto speaking friends in Arizona and South Korea.

I've been known to procrastinate.

Right now I feel very old and fat. I've had some very dire thoughts. Really don't want to reach out to people and bother them since they have issues of their own. Plus, as I've been told before, I'm not that important.

an old dream from 4/11/2015


Opening scene is the Vegas strip from the swingin' heyday of the Rat Pack. Pink neon turnips, halogen walls, set against the gentle glow of trinitite along the outskirts of town. We doan need no stinkin' stars, mang. America's big, and even the littlest guy had a taste of the military-industrial complex.

Take this mook. Me.

I have a bit of Mexican tail on the side, four foot eleven, eighty pounds soaking wet, and half of that is packed into tits and ass. We're cooking pizza in the kitchen when she announces her pregnancy. We already had two, and I tell her there's not going to be a number four since our household can't swing it. "Then you better stop fucking me the way you do." I look around, the kitchen resembles that of my biological parents. White cabinets, dark counters, near-pristine except for what my father touched. Why the fuck am I living in their home? How the hell did it appear in Vegas?

In confusion, I retired to a small wardrobe to contemplate my situation. Memories of waking life flood back. My sturdy Polish wife. Six and a half cats. A blue collar shack at the Jersey shore. What the hell is wrong with me?

That's when I wake up. Dorp's nestled against me. Kira, Lilah, and Marbles are pacing around the room wondering about their kibbles. The sun's still low in the east, and I figure I can steal a few more minutes of shuteye.

The dream kinda starts again, and I'm planning on writing my oneiric memoirs since the previous dream started out so good. While formulating the outline, I spot my wife reading the LiveJournal entry I was still planning. Overwhelmed with guilt about boning my Latina wife, being a big wheel in Vegas, and other nonsense now fading like early morning fog.

Reckon that's greased my wheels. It's time to write about UFOs and forteana.

Valid xHTML Transitional!