Old Man at the Bus Stop

I've been feeling nostalgic lately. I'm trying to remember the names and faces of everyone I have ever met. Some of the names and faces come easily, while others require some deep, intellectual thought.

I've been thinking about the time I spent in Germany. I was 17 years old, emotionally scarred and scared shitless about what life events would transpire back at home while I was away. Turns out it didn't matter what happened at home, because there was always something going on in my present-day life.

Unfortunately, I didn't come to this realization until just recently. I've always outwardly not given a shit about how people judge me, but deep inside the fluffy cream filling that is my heart, it was hard to let go of that. Why? Maybe I'll never know.

Anyway, being as nostalgic as I am right now, I went and found my old journal from when I lived in Mettmann, Deutschland. I just glanced through it, and landed on this piece, specifically, the last two paragraphs. It hit home. Funny thing is, I was married 6 years later. Strange.

Things feel out of sorts right now, but there is always something going on in present-day life that needs your attention. I am glad I am not obsessing over missing out on all the greatness that is Minnesota these days. I just wish I had someone to talk to.

Fuck the Academy Awards

My brain has run dry. I feel totally worthless when it comes to writing these days. Not even a single thought comes to mind.

So i am just going to write. Or type, because if I wrote on my computer, Mark would kill me. That and if i were to start writing in a journal, it would turn into a list of shit to do today, and, it being Sunday, I do not want to do shit today. 

One thing I have been thinking about is how much I hate the Academy Awards. I have my reasons:

-I really don't like movies. My attention span isn't long enough to sit through a film.

-Actors bug the shit out of me. They are crazy ass motherfuckers who wouldn't know reality from a script if their lives depended upon it, so there is that.

-Hollywood gets all crazy like 2 months beforehand and will tow the shit out of your car if you park  anywhere near the Kodak. And by anywhere near the Kodak, I'm talking Sunset & Ivar. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT BULLSHIT?!

Hot Shower

I feel like I am stuck in my storytelling. I got to a point where I could stop for a minute, and now it feels like I can't really start again. I think I need some jumper cables. Anyone? Anyone, please?

About Maryanne

Maryanne, quite unlike her brother, was a runt. She was the biggest baby of the litter, but over time coffee and cigarettes, she presumed, stunted her physical growth. And tho she was young, just barely 21 years, her emotional growth continued in leaps and bounds, sometimes surpassing her ability to keep pace. To others who were unaware of this affliction, she came off as crazy and aloof.

About Neil

Neil was a young man, no more than 30. He was tall, over six, and skinny. He looked like a younger version of his father, which was incredibly good looking, except that his father wasn't that tall. He got his height from his mother's genes. Neil had brown hair that he kept neatly trimmed, not for the vanity of it, but because it bothered him when his hair touched his ears. His eyes were a beautiful blue/hazel color and many a young woman thought that she would be the one to stare into those eyes forever.

Eugene, Oregon.

By the time they got to Eugene it was well after 1:00am. Neil checked into the motel, while Maryanne waited in the car, slightly buzzed from the swigs of whiskey and marijuana cigarettes the two had consumed on the quiet drive into Oregon. You see, the car radio didn't work and tho they had not seen each other in months, Neil and Maryanne didn't have much to say to each other, except to let the other know a piss break was needed.

Hope you enjoy that VD

Following suit from previous posts (XXX & Happy New Year) I have decided to share with you all a nugget of my wisdom concerning matters of the heart.