Monday, March 28, 2005


Strange mood this morning...maybe the increased dosage of zoloft...maybe the Budweiser...maybe both. Maybe I shouldn't combine the two.

There's a pallor on my personal cosmos just now. A need to retreat. Yet I resist. I write. I sing. In the end, I laugh myself to sleep, the bedsprings cackling.

So cruel this joke of a race...but nevertheless...a severe joke. The absolute joke. Me...the human race. of us. We ARE the race, but a race to where?

Have ya ever noticed how, in spite of themselves, those who "know" sound like a broken record? Stop drinking...yea...stop smokin...yea...stop screwin..yea. If I could, in my wildest dreams, accomplish such purity and reject these needs and vices, would I then dance with godlike joy?

Those who "know" can never tell me that.