Kick Me

At 12:15 I rolled over. At about 1, I said fuck it and got out of bed. Insomnia sucks. My body aches. I feel like I have been on the receiving end of an ass kicking. The timid, scared chair massage girl just made it worse. I guess you get what you pay for. Too tired to read or do anything productive. I've seen two Chris Rock Concerts in a row. Ever since I was a little kid If I heard two or three songs of the same artist on the radio or there is some TV marathon I assume they died. Well at least he made me laugh. That, as I have mentioned before, is generally hard to do. I might snorke, half chuckle, make some unintelligible sound that may or may not show approval for your attempt but an all-out gut buster is a bitter memory and a long time coming I fear. More happiness to follow. Happy Sunday God-fearers, football fans, World Series lovers. Me I'm hoping a good hockey game will come on, I can fall asleep too, and then wake up in time for last call.

Compassion

My body is so fucking tense that I could open beer bottles with my asshole. I even had a chair massage from the most meek, scared little apprentice ever. I hope she can make it in the real world of real assholes that want relief and they want it now. So please any muscle relaxers lying around, almost out of date please send them my way.

Waiting and waiting. Want a cup of pain?

Anxiety and depression suck. They have completely thrown off my sleep cycle for years. It's 3:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake so that I can drink a couple of cups of coffee and fully embrace my anxiety and fears. Bring it on. We've done this before.

Here's how stupid and irrational this shit is. I love sports. Recently Suzanne took up golf which I love and am overly excited to get to play with her. But I worry. I worry that there will be to many people there. I worry that I will suck and not just enjoy the game for the fun that it is. I worry that I'm boring my beautiful and patient wife with my anxiety. I worry. That's what I do. Everyday.24/7. I take Xanax and Ambien along with the cutely named Lunesta. They laugh at me.Your too crazy to let us work for you.O.K. We will let you get a little sleep in during your favorite hockey game but after that all bet's are off. Wake up psycho boy.This your brain talking.You got some worrrying to do for us.

An Angry, reflective, drunk Jew

Have I told you about the Rude Pundit blog. He's my favorite read. He put's my unintelligible spiels into well written spew. Man I wish I could write like that. I haven't written from the heart since I has in my twenties, broke, heart -broken but boy did I have a spiel. the ladies(I use that word loosely just as they were) fell for it every-time. That's when I didn't have a job any prospects but I played guitar, talked big and had great hair. It was just what I needed to write songs. Chaos. It's a hell of a motivator. I don't have that now. Sure I fuck up now and then but it will never measure up to the old days. And you have to live it 24 a day 7 a week. I'm to old and tired. But I'm more full of piss and vinegar than I ever have been. Just a spark and I could unleash one ugly EP. Splenetic. Just as you(my dear sister) suggested. A perfect work. Just scream and bitch and get it out. Then move on to the real stuff you want to do. But start somewhere. And I've got enough bad memories to last me all my life. Fin.

http://rudepundit.blogspot.com/