Hello my sweet. Not been a whole lot on the dating front. I am not quite to that point again. Rehab and mental exhaustion have almost killed the loneliness. 

Or made it the centerpiece of a crown of thorns. 

One or the other. 

I have been trying to pick up the pieces but apparently am clumsy as fuck. Every time I get most it glued back together into the semblance of a life I go and drop kick that mother fucker across the room. 

So maybe I am focused on the wrong things. Maybe I should be relaxing and letting the world come to me. Like a representative of the courts with important documentation. They just keep knocking. And sitting in the parking lot watching. 

Sit back and let live find me. As I hide indoors, away from people. Cannot make it too easy. Gotta play impossible to find for a while.

I made a mess lately. Not been doing the right things. I was riding super high and I knew the bottom would fall out. I had no contingency plan.

If there was ever a movie made about my life it would be a series of interconnected and while random images of people clutching their genitalia and screaming fuck at the clouds impotently. It would by hilarious and heart achingly sad at once. I imagine Jason Statham as me. More likely Jonah Hill. Fat Jonah Hill. Not the less funny more healthy version. 

Okay, picture it. A Salvador Dali existential crisis spread across the galaxy. Each snapshot accompanied by music picked out lovingly by me. Each nutshot or twat pop done to a song representing my life. The backgrounds becoming more splintered by every crushing blow. Eventually two beacons light up on either side if the frame and stay constant and strong. But everything else becomes more distorted as it slowly gains momentum. Snippets of song and pain. Until finally it hits a pace and becomes a blur, Ministry Thieves playing full tilt. 

Final Scene. Silence. Cut to old man me. Death walks in. We kick each other in the scrotum and fade to black. 


Gypsy violins. 

Have a great day

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