Current mood: disappointed
are not people too, or at least mine aint. but here's my dis-claimer: sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment that don't necessarily reflect how i'm feeling on every given day of the slob for sakin' week. they also may be a composite of thoughts about different things that have been churning in my stomach or charging my spirit. if you think i've slighted you in a particular entry i've written with my keyboard shaped tongue, i urge you to take a deep knee bend and not get those panties in a wadd, as who really cares what's said in my blog anyway? seriously, this page aint no trial blazin' tabloid or reality showboatin' blah blah ganooj (well maybe it is blah blah ganooj), it's just an example of free speach baby, an' so i retain the right to be general, enigmatic, ironic, sardonic, catatonic and bitter as all hell in my spew, but please don't come to the conclusion that it's got anything to do with you .
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I started I stopped
Current mood: drained
been incinerating the candles at both ends of late rehersing this frustrating play like
a mofo, on top of Rollo and a slew o' films-haven't had time to blog fer shit you may have noticed (thinking me all words an' no words). I have added a few short ones over at the old rollo @ myspace address though, so if yer absolutely dyin' to be poisoned by my infectious word warpage, head on over to Rollo, where they're charcoal broiled.
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imposing stones
... refers to new lyrics of a new song of the same name by my band Rollo. If you wanna read 'em, or any other lyrics o' mine for that matter (cause you're like that, which is something I like) let me know...
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Those three lil' thoughts were provoked on myspace, an 'have nothing to do whatsover with Wade Boggs gettin' his Hall o' the Un-Shamed induction a month ago. That was a nappy occasion, as I grew up watching that lucky chicken spray hits all over Fenway. He was the guy who wasn't supposed to make it; hittin' for average despite his average looks, pimply red beard, surly disposition and unsure fielding. I don't care that he rode horse at Yankee stadium or told the D'Rays he'd ride their hat into the Hall, we all knew he'd make it as a Red Sock. Too bad Jim Ed Rice didn't get in with him, but I think next year is his year as there are no marquee new guys with guarenteed keys to the palace... I wasn't planning on writing a damn thing, as I'm sick as a dog, and tried from tripping back late night from NJ. I did a shoot there where I wore black Angel wings and then I rode a bus back with a crazy Willie Nelson lookalike who danced around me doin' the symbols of the cross by my head (and every other head that boarded the bus). After I dropped my lil' myspace driblets of recent days here though, I thought I should add some new words to the mess that is this blog. I just did though, and can't heave anymore on you as I'm about to heave myself and break out into a cold though which I'll try to splin to you in further detail if I'm still alive Wed. Keepin' up with this shit is hard, and tryin' to delve backwards in my brain to retrieve past ideas/thoughts (a mode I'm still in after my extended vacation from blogdom) is doubly difficult, but I remain committed to doin' my damndest. Until then-@
