One of Those "Say Anything" Days

I don't know what the hell to tell you. Scratch that, I do. First off, I'm sorry I was gone for so long. It's not like me to stay away, and truth be told, I wasn't staying away as much as I've been held apart by circumstances beyond my control. Actually I kind of felt like the bearded guy with wings from Flash Gordon just then. At least my voice boomed in my head as I proclaimed the truth. It's not actually that dramatic, but I wish it were.

I guess, I really don't know what to expect from life anymore. Between the images pumped in through music and the massive filtering of said music to just the things that I don't mind slam dancing in my brain tissue and the images sucked in from television and the entire glut of information that comes unfiltered and unfilterable, my image of New York was unrealistic. "How realistic did I want it to be" is probably a more important question to ask. It's not a wasteland. It's not a shooting gallery. It's no more a hotbed of imagination and talent than any other city with a downtown and an uptown (that little detail is what makes or breaks a city for reasons locked into the evolutionary genome of bullshit socio whatevers).

I'm not making sense am I? I guess I'm just pissed off. Right now I'm that 105 year old man who sits in a high backed chair with his back to his bay windows, dressed in his three piece suit he wore to his last day of work before he retired, who cannot for the life of him remember the conversation between his ears that told him he should make the drastic change from the life he knew to the life he didn't know he would come to loathe.

We are after all in the first few hours of the first few months of the first few years of this, our new year under the banner of industry for the sake of perpetuating a life whose value lies in the work it has yet to complete. So I should be aiming for ... what? I don't fucking know.

Nope. Not true again. I do fucking know. My goal hasn't really changed. Only the operating conditions have changed. All I have to do is put food in my face, keep a simple computer, and not be homeless. If I can land a gig to make that happen I'll be good as a bar of gold. Or something. Something is getting lost in the wires again and I am blowing fuses faster than I'm replacing them and I think that's why I like talking to you. It doesn't really show me what needs to be replaced, but it does...

Okay cannot finish that thought. I think what I'm wanting to say is that I suppose if no one loves you, I'll be willing to. No pictures or links for a little while. My arrangements aren't allowing me to do the things I love doing for you. But we'll catch up later when I can think again and I stop feeling weird shit touching me. Total Promisaurus. And not like Inception promise either [I'm still gunna do it... i sware]. And my grammar will be better too. And punctuation. And that's it. Only because I told you I would fix it and I meant it. Because a man without his word is a laughing hollow eyed handshake that will eat you up from inside your dreams, like any other big city you knew.

///The Cranberries - "Dreams" who hasn't sung these lyrics to themselves? Raise your hands. To your throats and gently throttle yourselves for being too cool for school and then go youtube as soon as you feel you've punished yourself enough. Best song ever. Sure I can't listen to it 8 times in a row anymore, but that just comes with growing up. Right?