Diary of a potenttially mad older getting man
Aaahhh, so...
So I got the big birthday coming up this Friday. I'm gonna call it now, this is going to be the "hump day" birthday. As in, I will be over the hump... past the half way point, the point of no return. It's all downhill from here...
I could go at any time, you dig, and I figure it is, statistically speaking, getting more and more likely.
But considering that I have already lived for a, uhh, considerable amount of time (by my reckoning) already I probably have a long long time to go. I have a plan... it ain't much of a plan, but it is my plan...
I am going to go a bit more insane... just a bit...
I hope to be one of those insane but friendly old dudes and write things that, when people read them, will confuse them... If I work hard and am diligent I figure I can be just like William S. Burroughs, but less homo and probably not a junkie... and I will write things like this:
Love Your Enemies
It isn't easy to love an enemy. This goes against your most basic survival instinct, but it can be done and turned to an advantage.
Let the love squirt out of you like a fire hose of molasses. Give him the kiss of life. Stick your tongue down his throat and taste what he has been eating and bless his digestion. Ooze down into his intestines and help him along with his food.
Let him know you revere his rectum as part of an ineffable hose. Make him understand that you stand and lick it off his genitals as part of the Master Plan.
Life in all it's rich variety, do not falter. Let your love enter into him and penetrate him with a divine lubricant. Makes KY and Lanolin feel like sandpaper. It's the most muscologinous, the slimiest, ooziest lubricant that ever was or shall be.
And I will have the same old Trophy wife that I have now. That will be sweet. She will most likely be insane also, seeing as I will have driven her crazy... er... crazier... It goes to reckon that spending this much time with me would have profound impacts on a persons sanity... Hell, she must be crazy to be with me in the first place... and I have a history of making the ladies crazy, just look around... heck, take a look in the mirror ladies... yeah...
Nothing really stands out about the big 39 to make it any different from the big 38... somehow I will miss the 38... it seems like a nice number, don't you think? I think I will also like 43 for some reason... but not 42... 42 seems evil for some reason...
Ahh, I don't know what I am getting at... I really don't... I just haven't been able to get my head in the right place lately, the right place being an abstract location.
Bare with me for a moment or two, I am just gonna scat a bit...
Let's see... OK, so speaking of SCAT and ENEMIES, I was having issues in my mind with Mr. Seattle lately, been going back and forth about it, and I recognize this, you dig, I could see what I was doing, you know... and it just ain't healthy, but it can be amusing at times... See, I had this plan, it was not a good plan, but I was thinking, Hey, I will invite him to be a shiny happy friend, you dig, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, you know... and I was thinking that it would be like some kind of movie, you know, where there is a curmudgeonly old cop and some smartass young cop and the old cop just wants to do things by the book and retire and shit, but the smartass young cop comes in and doesn't want to follow the rules... you know the story, we have seen it a million times... well, in this story I keep trying to bust down the young cop and everyone is all like, Hey, he's cool, why don't you just mellow out, let him do his thing, and I am all like: Are you people insane?!?! He is the antichrist... and everyone would accuse me of just being an old fart and so I would end up holed up with this dude and there would be a gunfight and he would want to be all rambo rambshackle and shit and I would hatch this plan, real quick like, in my mind and the perfect moment would present itself and I would shoot him in the ass, you know, to take him out of my misery for a while... Ooops, I would say, and everyone would be all like: you did it on purpose, you're an asshole, and I would try to defend myself but finally give up and retire... and I would tend my garden and those sticks for my dog and maybe walk on the beach, but at night before I went to bed I would look at the plaque on the wall with my badge and shit and get all misty eyed... AND THEN, and then, all of a sudden people would start calling me and telling me I was right all along, he really IS a knob and they are sorry they didn't see it before and would I consider coming back, and I would think about it for a while and finally agree to come back, you dig... and a week or two later, after it was really awkward for a while, because no one wanted to admit that they wanted me back because, even though the other dude was a complete knob he still had some sort of charisma that confused people and made them go along with whatever crap he came up with, I would find myself in a similar situation, a gunfight of some sort and I would have a flashback to where I had shot him in the ass before and I would find myself raising up my gun and the audience would be all like, OH NO!!! and this time... I would shoot him in the other ass cheek... BAM!!! and the knee... and the bad guys would get away and I would end up going to jail, but I would be happy, because I was a crooked cop all along and a lot of my buddies were in jail with me....
This would really work, you know, if I could get Steve McQueen or Robert De Niro to play me and he could just play himself... it will be his big break... but I decided that I was probably WAY insane for thinking of doing this, it would serve no useful purpose, would really be, uh, small of me or something... petty... annoying really...
Uhh, yeah... anyhow... just scatting, you know... nothing of a lot of value, I guess...
So I got the big birthday coming up this Friday. I'm gonna call it now, this is going to be the "hump day" birthday. As in, I will be over the hump... past the half way point, the point of no return. It's all downhill from here...
I could go at any time, you dig, and I figure it is, statistically speaking, getting more and more likely.
But considering that I have already lived for a, uhh, considerable amount of time (by my reckoning) already I probably have a long long time to go. I have a plan... it ain't much of a plan, but it is my plan...
I am going to go a bit more insane... just a bit...
I hope to be one of those insane but friendly old dudes and write things that, when people read them, will confuse them... If I work hard and am diligent I figure I can be just like William S. Burroughs, but less homo and probably not a junkie... and I will write things like this:
Love Your Enemies
It isn't easy to love an enemy. This goes against your most basic survival instinct, but it can be done and turned to an advantage.
Let the love squirt out of you like a fire hose of molasses. Give him the kiss of life. Stick your tongue down his throat and taste what he has been eating and bless his digestion. Ooze down into his intestines and help him along with his food.
Let him know you revere his rectum as part of an ineffable hose. Make him understand that you stand and lick it off his genitals as part of the Master Plan.
Life in all it's rich variety, do not falter. Let your love enter into him and penetrate him with a divine lubricant. Makes KY and Lanolin feel like sandpaper. It's the most muscologinous, the slimiest, ooziest lubricant that ever was or shall be.
And I will have the same old Trophy wife that I have now. That will be sweet. She will most likely be insane also, seeing as I will have driven her crazy... er... crazier... It goes to reckon that spending this much time with me would have profound impacts on a persons sanity... Hell, she must be crazy to be with me in the first place... and I have a history of making the ladies crazy, just look around... heck, take a look in the mirror ladies... yeah...
Nothing really stands out about the big 39 to make it any different from the big 38... somehow I will miss the 38... it seems like a nice number, don't you think? I think I will also like 43 for some reason... but not 42... 42 seems evil for some reason...
Ahh, I don't know what I am getting at... I really don't... I just haven't been able to get my head in the right place lately, the right place being an abstract location.
Bare with me for a moment or two, I am just gonna scat a bit...
Let's see... OK, so speaking of SCAT and ENEMIES, I was having issues in my mind with Mr. Seattle lately, been going back and forth about it, and I recognize this, you dig, I could see what I was doing, you know... and it just ain't healthy, but it can be amusing at times... See, I had this plan, it was not a good plan, but I was thinking, Hey, I will invite him to be a shiny happy friend, you dig, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, you know... and I was thinking that it would be like some kind of movie, you know, where there is a curmudgeonly old cop and some smartass young cop and the old cop just wants to do things by the book and retire and shit, but the smartass young cop comes in and doesn't want to follow the rules... you know the story, we have seen it a million times... well, in this story I keep trying to bust down the young cop and everyone is all like, Hey, he's cool, why don't you just mellow out, let him do his thing, and I am all like: Are you people insane?!?! He is the antichrist... and everyone would accuse me of just being an old fart and so I would end up holed up with this dude and there would be a gunfight and he would want to be all rambo rambshackle and shit and I would hatch this plan, real quick like, in my mind and the perfect moment would present itself and I would shoot him in the ass, you know, to take him out of my misery for a while... Ooops, I would say, and everyone would be all like: you did it on purpose, you're an asshole, and I would try to defend myself but finally give up and retire... and I would tend my garden and those sticks for my dog and maybe walk on the beach, but at night before I went to bed I would look at the plaque on the wall with my badge and shit and get all misty eyed... AND THEN, and then, all of a sudden people would start calling me and telling me I was right all along, he really IS a knob and they are sorry they didn't see it before and would I consider coming back, and I would think about it for a while and finally agree to come back, you dig... and a week or two later, after it was really awkward for a while, because no one wanted to admit that they wanted me back because, even though the other dude was a complete knob he still had some sort of charisma that confused people and made them go along with whatever crap he came up with, I would find myself in a similar situation, a gunfight of some sort and I would have a flashback to where I had shot him in the ass before and I would find myself raising up my gun and the audience would be all like, OH NO!!! and this time... I would shoot him in the other ass cheek... BAM!!! and the knee... and the bad guys would get away and I would end up going to jail, but I would be happy, because I was a crooked cop all along and a lot of my buddies were in jail with me....
This would really work, you know, if I could get Steve McQueen or Robert De Niro to play me and he could just play himself... it will be his big break... but I decided that I was probably WAY insane for thinking of doing this, it would serve no useful purpose, would really be, uh, small of me or something... petty... annoying really...
Uhh, yeah... anyhow... just scatting, you know... nothing of a lot of value, I guess...
Labels: hump
posted by Catfish at 12:43 PM
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